Please Save Me?
by myheartwonxxo
Summary: "It's you," Kurt blurted. It was the boy he met the day of his mother's funeral, the one who had a knack for showing up whenever Kurt needed him, the one he hadn't seen in six years. Blaine. What Kurt didn't know was that Blaine had never left, not for a second.
1. The Tree House

**Please Save Me?**

**by: myheartwonxxo**

* * *

_**Summary:**_ "It's you," Kurt blurted. It was the boy he met the day of his mother's funeral, the one who had a knack for showing up whenever Kurt needed him, the one he hadn't seen in six years. Blaine. What Kurt didn't know was that Blaine had never left, not for a second.

One.

_The Tree House_

Kurt was eight the first time he saw his imaginary friend.

Kurt was also eight when his mother died.

It was a cold November day. Far too sunny for such an occasion.

"...died well before her time," the priest said, and despite being eight, Kurt glared at him. The guy was just reading words from a little book. He had no connection to Kurt's mother; he didn't know what those words meant.

Kurt glanced up, looking at the crowd of familiar faces – tear stricken, puffy eyed. And then he looked at his father, who was trying his hardest to not cry, to keep it together to show Kurt it'd be okay.

But it wasn't going to be okay.

Kurt felt a hand wrap around his own, and as his father gripped tighter, Kurt felt less alone.

The ceremony continued, the priest reciting his empty words. Kurt continued feeling empty and cold, and then they lowered his mother's casket into the ground, and she was gone from Kurt's world forever.

The crowd slowly cleared, one-by-one, in small groups of grieving people, Until it was just the two Hummels. Two. Just two.

Kurt's dad rubbed a hand across his son's small back, sniffling as he finally allowed himself to cry.

"We're gonna be okay, kiddo," he whispered.

Kurt's eyes never left his mother's gravestone. They never left the word _Mother_. In little over a week, he'd grown up so quickly. He lost a little of himself when he lost her.

Kurt knew his father walked away because the emptiness set in again, and for the first time, Kurt looked up. The sun shined over the graveyard. A slick fog, thin, almost translucent set across the field. Kurt looked over the other headstones, almost memorizing the people his mother would call her neighbors. Each one: a lost soul.

His eyes froze on a figure, still against the foggy mist. It was white and blended quite well with the light and the fog. A boy?

Kurt stared for a long second before he heard his father call, "Kurt?"

Snapping his head towards the voice, Kurt stumbled back then froze in place.

"Y-yeah," his choked out. "Coming."

His eyes scanned the cemetery for the small figure, but it had vanished, so taking one last look at his mother's grave, mentally saying farewell, Kurt ran off to his father.

Kurt's dad organized a get-together after the funeral and burial at their house. It was morbid, and Kurt felt like his happiness was being sucked right out of him.

One relative after another would grasp at him, holding him too tightly, sobbing into his tiny shoulders, and Kurt would just tap awkwardly on their backs until they let go with words of encouragement or sympathy.

Eventually, it became too much for the eight year old, and he went outside to the backyard.

Their yard was small. It was lined with bushes and in the corner grew a large tree. Kurt paced towards the tree, ignoring the voices coming from his house not aimed at him. He was small, but if he jumped, he could grasp the lowest branch. Kurt hoisted himself up, pulling higher and higher until he was buried in the branches of the tree.

He took a break, looking down at his home. Warm lights flooded out of the kitchen. This reminded him of how cold he was and how foolish he was for not bringing a jacket. His mother would have scolded him.

Breath caught in his throat; the thought shook him. Kurt reached up and grasped the nearest branch before allowing himself to linger on the thought. It wasn't long, two or three feet, until he reached a different kind of wood. Hidden amongst the branches was a tree house, build long before the Hummels moved in. Kurt maneuvered himself through the wooden opening then sat inside with his feet dangling through the hole.

The sun poked through the cracks between the lumber, but it was dark enough, in Kurt's opinion, to flick on the white Christmas lights he had stolen from the attic a few weeks ago.

His mother had found the tree house while trimming the bushes surrounding the fence. She immediately told Kurt, who immediately wanted it for his own. She helped him with the lights and brought him snacks when he'd spend all afternoon up there playing with his action figures or singing songs he'd play from his Walkman.

The white lights shined on pictures he either painted or colored, covering the walls in neat, organized rows. Kurt crawled across the short threshold and sat in the middle, arms wrapped tightly around his knees.

Then he buried his face in his knees and cried. His little tiny body shook, sobs cutting through the silence.

"Why? Why my mommy?" he cried, his voice muffled against his knees. "She was everything to me and Daddy! It's not f-fair!"

And he just hugged himself tighter and cried for what felt like hours, which couldn't have been true because the adults would have noticed his absence.

"Shhhhh," came a soft voice.

Kurt was too wrapped up in his head to realize the voice was unfamiliar. As he continued to cry, the hushing remained.

"Kurt, it's okay," the same voice said, coming closer.

Despite his eyes being blurry, Kurt picked up his head and gazed past the tears to find a small, white figure hovering over him. Suddenly, the eight year old snapped back, crashing against the wooden wall of the tree house.

"W-who...how did you-" Kurt stammered, eyes coming into focus.

"Kurt..." the boy, no older than Kurt, said. He had a small, tiny frame. His skin was almost tan against the white shirt and pants he was wearing. He had curly, soft looking black hair, and his hazel eyes looked kind, yet sad.

"How do you know my name?" Kurt cried, hugging his knees again. "How did you find my secret tree house?"

The boy inched closer. "Shhh, it's okay. I'm your friend."

"B-but I don't know you!" Kurt whimpered.

"My name is Blaine," he said, sitting Indian-style in line with him, "and your name is Kurt."

Kurt looked into his face and soothed to his kind speech. Then something suddenly hit him.

"You were at the cemetery!" Kurt gasped.

Blaine nodded. "I couldn't keep watching you be sad. I had to do something."

Kurt's eyes narrowed apprehensively. "So, you followed me?"

Blaine pursed his lips, nodding. "I had to help. I'm sorry about your mommy."

Kurt nodded, feeling tears begin to form in his eyes again. Blaine inched forward, sitting beside Kurt. Their shoulders were almost touching, and Kurt caught Blaine eying the inch of space, saw him gulp.

"What?" Kurt asked, eyes narrowing.

"I don't really...I've never...nothing. Nevermind," Blaine mumbled.

Kurt glanced sideways at the boy, who was only wearing a t-shirt. Kurt's breath kept clouding in front of his face. How wasn't Blaine freezing?

"Aren't you cold?" Kurt asked, bringing his knees to his chest again.

"No," he said simply.

"I can get blankets," Kurt offered, getting to his feet.

"It's okay. Unless you're cold," Blaine said.

Kurt knelt facing Blaine now, and even though there were puffs of breath lingering between their faces, Kurt didn't rush for a blanket. He didn't want to leave his tree house, in case Blaine takes it and never leaves.

"You know, your mommy and daddy are probably wondering where you are. How far away do you live?" Kurt questioned.

"Not too far, I guess."

"I could walk you home," Kurt said in the tone of a question.

"No!" Blaine said frantically.

Looking confused, Kurt crossed his arms against his chest. "Why not?"

Looking slightly wounded, Blaine retorted, "I came here for you. I don't want you to be alone."

Kurt shook his head, getting up. "There's a houseful of people over there. I'm not alone."

"Really?"

Kurt stared at Blaine for a long second before turning away. Of course he felt alone, and no amount of company could change that.

"No," Kurt muttered, "but you being here isn't helping anything. I don't know who you are, or how you found my secret tree house, or why you're here, _but you need to_-"

Kurt turned, only to find himself actually alone. Not even a shadow of a person remained. He ran to the edge of the tree house, peering over to find Blaine, but he was gone. There wasn't even a rustling of leaves from Blaine climbing down the tree. He just wasn't there anymore.

Kurt's stomach squirmed uneasily. Where'd he go?

* * *

Kurt was seventeen when he saw Blaine for the sixth time.

It was in a hospital.

"Just squeeze back. Come on, Dad," Kurt begged on the hope that his father, who was lying in a hospital bed, motionless, would show the slightest sign of life. "Just squeeze my hand..."

"He can't hear you," Blaine said, knowing full well that Kurt couldn't hear him either.

Blaine drifted towards the bedside and looked at Kurt, full of remorse. Kurt, not realizing Blaine was standing across from him, continued to plead and tighten the grip on his father's fingers.

"Can't you tell Kurt's dad to wake up?" Blaine said to the woman who was at the foot of the bed.

Unlike Kurt, she responded to Blaine's words. Sadly, the small woman shook her head.

"If escaping death was that easy-" she spoke only to Blaine because only Blaine could hear.

Blaine interrupted. "He's not going to die! He can't die!"

"Dad," Kurt sobbed, tears slipping down his face.

"Melinda, look at him! He's breaking! He's already lost his mother; he can't lose his father too," Blaine said, watching Kurt intently.

Kurt slapped away his tears and turned to exit the room. Blaine felt a familiar pull in his chest as the distance between himself and Kurt grew further. He exchanged a sorrowful look with Melinda before following after Kurt.

They walked side-by-side down the hall. Blaine tried to focus on Kurt, but he was captivated by the figures going in and out of focus all around them. Hospitals had a lot of lost souls.

Kurt slipped inside an empty room and snapped the door closed behind him. Blaine watched him through the glass window as he buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with tears. Blaine remembered this happening before. He had a very vivid memory of an eight year old in the same situation.

And like many times before, he made a stupid mistake. He glided through the door and stood (or rather, floated) in the middle of the room.

"I-I'm sorry. I'll g-go," Kurt cried suddenly seeing Blaine through his tears, jumping from off the hospital bed he'd been sitting on. "I just needed a..."

Kurt's eyes grew wide, frozen.

"Are you all right?" Blaine questioned, staying put.

Chest heaving, Kurt blurted, "It's you."

* * *

**Teaser for Next Chapter:**

"I-I can't-" Blaine began.

"No. No! You always show up, expecting it to be completely normal for me. Guess what, Blaine? It hasn't been normal since I met you, and it's your fault. You owe me this," Kurt ordered.

* * *

_Author's Note: _I'd really like to get a beta because I suck so hard at proof-reading! So um, get at me through Private Message or Tumblr (same name, myheartwonxxo) Highly appreciated!


	2. The Secret

**Author's Note: **I got a pretty awesome Beta: Sarah (thestairwell). Thanks, girl!

* * *

**From Last Chapter: **_On th__e day of Kurt's mother's funeral, h__e met Blaine – a boy his age, who just appeared, wanting to help. On the day Kurt's father could die, nine years later, Blaine appeared again._

Two.

The Secret

His house was empty, or at least Kurt thought it was. He was laying on his bed, hands folded across his stomach, just staring up at the ceiling.

He remembered Blaine. He knew it was him, yet within ten seconds, Blaine was gone, vanished into thin air, with a surprised, scared look across his face. Blaine hadn't changed much, Kurt decided, even though he hadn't seen him in years.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered feebly into the silence of his bedroom. "Blaine?"

And with a racing heart, Kurt lifted up from the pillow to gaze around the room. He felt foolish, but how foolish could a person be if this wasn't the first time he'd been in this situation?

"Please," Kurt breathed, shutting his eyes.

Blaine only showed up when Kurt needed him but didn't expect him. Many, many times Kurt had tried to call for his friend, but it never worked. Blaine appeared on Blaine's terms.

"It's not fair, you know?" Kurt pushed, eyes peeking open. "Why don't I get a say in when you pop in and out of my life?"

Kurt waited for a long second, ears straining to hear anything.

"And if something happens to my dad and I'm alone, you'll feel really guilty for not answering my calls," Kurt threatened, pulling up and leaning against the headboard, arms crossed. He continued, "When we were eleven and I asked you if you were real, and you answered no, I knew you were lying."

And Kurt waited, his heart pumping blood rapidly through his body.

"You're real," Kurt whispered, ducking his head into the knees pressed close to his chest.

"We aren't eleven or nine or eight anymore," a voice said.

Kurt shot his head up. There was still no one in the room, but the voice was distinctive.

"What about ten?" Kurt egged on, inching to the edge of his bed.

And then a light filled the dim room. It wasn't a blinding light but unexpected against the darkness, and Kurt squinted until the light faded and his eyes adjusted.

And there was Blaine, just the way Kurt remembered him: white v-neck and slacks, tan skin, hair (which was slicked back for a change) and those hazel eyes.

Kurt hastily flicked on his bedside table light, sitting up.

"But I never came back when we were ten," Blaine said, staying impossibly still. "Just eleven, nine and eight."

Kurt stood up, as if in a trance. Without too much thought, he walked towards Blaine and reached out a hand. Kurt froze inches from Blaine's chest. Blaine looked straight at Kurt's hand, as if studying a new concept. Kurt watched Blaine intently.

"Blaine?" Kurt muttered, slowly closing the distance.

Blaine didn't move, and Kurt thought he was about let him touch him, but then the other boy flinched and jerked away. Frantically, Blaine shook his head and backed up.

He said, "Kurt, no. We were kids. I was being stupid. I know better now."

"Obviously," Kurt spat, rolling his eyes, "since you're back."

"I'm not staying long."

Kurt shook his head, turning away. As he flopped down to sit on his bed, he muttered, "You never do." He then added, louder, "I'm not gonna beg you to stay so you can just go now."

"Listen," Blaine began, kneeling in front of Kurt. "You're never alone, whatever happens."

Kurt rolled his eyes, again, scooting away from Blaine. Blaine sighed, standing up.

And just as Blaine was about to disappear, Kurt asked the question, "Why can't you just tell me what you are?"

The question lingered in the air. Blaine stayed, looking at Kurt carefully, and Kurt finished, Kurt finished, "When I was eight, I thought you were imaginary, and as I grew up and you become more real, I figured you were a ghost, but then we were eleven and I touched you. So now I just don't know what the hell you are, but you're here again. If you're not imaginary and you're not a ghost, what are you?"

Blaine furrowed his brow, sighing heavily.

"I-I can't-" Blaine began.

"No. No! You always show up, expecting it to be completely normal for me. Guess what, Blaine? It hasn't been normal since I met you, and it's your fault. You owe me this," Kurt ordered.

Blaine lowered his head. With one quick, little nod, he squared his shoulders, and huffed out a breath. For a moment, nothing happened, but then something burst from behind Blaine, stretching out on either side of him so quickly that Kurt didn't realize what they were until they'd settled closer to Blaine's body.

Wings – fluffy and sitting in an organized pattern. Along the edges of the lowest set of feathers were a line of brown, but other than that, they were white.

"B-Blaine," Kurt choked out. And for a moment, Kurt forgot to breathe.

"You wanted to know," Blaine said.

"What are you?" Kurt asked.

There was a brief pause, and then, in a clear voice, "I'm an angel, Kurt," Blaine said."Your angel."

* * *

Kurt was eight when he saw Blaine for the second time.

His back was pressed against the hard, prickly bark of the huge tree in the corner of his backyard. Kurt tilted his head back to look at the sun through the leaves of the tree and absentmindedly gripped the unyielding white cast covering his wrist.

The little eight year old was suddenly overwhelmed, with wanting to get up into his secret tree house, with the ache of his broken bone, with how much he missed his mother, and with feeling alone all the time, that he started to cry.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. As Kurt reacted, throwing himself away from the touch, warm arms wrapped around his torso.

"Kurt," whispered his father. "Kurt, it's okay. Come inside."

Kurt whipped his head back and forth, pulling away as his father tugged him up.

"It's okay. I'm okay," Kurt said, wiping away his tears.

His father's large hands framed his face. "You're sure?"

Kurt gave a tiny nod, and his dad was satisfied, clapping him on the back before turning towards the house. With a sigh, Kurt leaned back into the tree.

"Why didn't you take your dad's help?" a voice asked.

Kurt jumped, tumbling onto the grassy ground. He looked up and saw a boy, all in white, standing over him.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, getting to his feet.

"He wanted to help you," Blaine said, stepping back. "You were crying."

Kurt felt completely violated. "Did you follow me home again? From the hospital? From school?" Kurt spat, angry.

"I- no."

Crossing his arms and turning away from Blaine, Kurt said, "Well, it seems like it! I just want to be left alone!" and looked over his shoulder and found he was talking to himself. "Really?" Kurt huffed and stomped towards the house.

"Didn't you want to get up here?" Blaine's voice called from up above Kurt's head – from the top of the tree.

Turning, Kurt could barely make out Blaine's figure through the leaves. He gaped up at him. How had he got to the tree house so fast?

Kurt rounded the tree, head craned upwards. Blaine smiled down. With a sigh, Kurt jumped and grabbed the lowest branch, wrapping his encased arm around the wood. It took a lot longer than usual, but Kurt eventually managed to climb up to his tree house.

"You're not going to help me?" Kurt groaned, pushing through the entrance.

Blaine knelt in the corner, tying up his shoelace. "I think you're doing okay."

Grunting, Kurt rolled onto the tree house floor and lay there, panting.

Staying on his back, Kurt managed, "You're not my favorite person."

Blaine laughed and leant over Kurt so that he was upside-down.

"So, how'd that happen?" Blaine asked, kicking towards Kurt's wrist.

Kurt sat up and turned around as Blaine sat down. Even though the other boy was just a stranger who wanted to steal his tree house, Kurt felt strangely okay with telling him the story.

"It was a really pretty day out for the middle of February, and our teacher let us have recess outside," Kurt began, absentmindedly tapping at his cast. "I was on the monkey bars when Noah Puckerman jumped on, right behind me!"

Blaine leaned forward, interested. "Then what happened?"

"He started making fun of me, kicking at my shoes, telling me I was too much of a sissy to climb the monkey bars, to go play hop-scotch with the other girls."

"And you lost balance and fell."

It wasn't a question. Blaine was continuing the story.

"I fell, and it hurt really, really bad, Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed, picking up his wrist. "So they took me to the hospital. It was really bad."

"Why were you crying earlier?" Blaine probed.

Kurt hugged his knees, resting his chin down into them. "My mommy always said not to listen to mean people like that. They just want to hurt you. But Noah Puckerman really did hurt me! And I just hurt. Everywhere!"

"Your heart, too?"

Kurt let out a choked sob. "I miss her every single day."

Blaine went to reach forward but pulled back. "It's only been three months. It'll get better."

"No, it won't b-because she's never coming back," Kurt cried, hiding his face behind his palms. "The house still smells like her! I don't like being in there. That's why I need for my bone to get fixed. I need this tree house!"

Blaine hugged himself tightly, as if he was mimicking what he wanted to give to Kurt. He let Kurt cry, and gradually his sobbing began to fade.

"It's okay, Kurt," Blaine whispered. "I'm here. I'll always be here."

But when he woke up, Blaine was gone.

* * *

**Teaser for Next Chapter:**

"I don't want to tell you too much," Blaine confessed. "Because, well, you're not supposed to know about me." Kurt was about to argue, and undoubtedly bring up the fact that Blaine showed himself to Kurt first, so Blaine continued, "Five questions."

"The game is twenty questions."

Blaine smiled, and Kurt noticed that his teeth as white as the rest of him.

"We aren't playing a game," he said.


	3. The Five Questions

****_Author's Note:_ Thanks everyone & to my Beta Sarah =)

* * *

**From Last Chapter: **Kurt guilts Blaine into showing himself again, then after a long talk, Blaine reveals he's Kurt's angel.

Three.

The Five Questions

"Blaine," Kurt whispered over the steady beeping of his father's heart monitor.

He was leaning into the white bedspread, elbows tucking the sheets into his father's side. He mumbled Blaine's name into his knuckles, scared that someone, anyone would hear aside from Blaine.

But wouldn't it be something if Kurt's dad woke up to him talking to himself?

This hadn't been the only time Kurt's tried summonsing his "angel" (the phrase forced a chill down his back). Whenever he had a quiet moment – which happened a lot because Carole and Finn usually left him alone whenever he wasn't staying in his huge, empty home – he called for Blaine.

When Blaine showed him his wings, Kurt started asking all of these questions, and that had made Blaine freak out! He'd disappeared in less time than it took to blink.

"Just tell me if my dad's going to be okay, will you?" Kurt mumbled, pressing his forehead into the sheet.

The steady beeping of the machine soothed Kurt. He shut his eyes and rested against his father. How he went from calm to frantic within a second basically described Kurt's life.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. "Kurt." Beep.

And he jumped, screeching his chair across the floor.

As white as the rest of the room, Blaine appeared, standing beside Kurt. He backed away slightly because of Kurt's reaction.

"Sorry," Kurt gasped, slowly moving beside his father again. Kurt took his dad's hand, partly as a means to keep himself steady.

"No, I'm sorry," Blaine muttered. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You know, a nonexistent human just appearing out of thin air wouldn't scare just anyone," Kurt retorted.

"Maybe I should have a signal that I'm coming," Blaine offered, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Kurt leaned against the plastic lining of his father's hospital bed.

"Does that mean you'll be showing up more?" Kurt questioned.

"I-" Blaine's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. "I- I _shouldn't_..."

Kurt shrugged, turning away from Blaine. "Do whatever you want, Blaine. Not like I have a say."

Kurt stole a glance sideways, and Blaine looked guilty, dipping his head towards the white tiled floor. Blaine started forward slightly.

"...Kurt."

"Did you come because you heard my question?" Kurt asked, still not making eye contact.

"I don't know," Blaine said. Kurt huffed out an annoyed sigh. "I mean, I can't tell the future. Melinda says he's doing well, so-"

"Wait. Who?" Kurt interrupted, finally turning, dropping his father's hand.

Blaine looked sideways. "Um, she's your father's angel."

Kurt looked up at Blaine doubtingly.

Blaine continued, "Every single person has an angel to guard over them. We're born with you."

Kurt narrowed his eyes in a _ew-why-are-you-telling-me-this?_ kind of way.

"Too much info?" Blaine assumed.

"Not exactly the info I was asking for."

Blaine nodded slowly, approaching. He looked like he was walking on egg shells, and if Kurt had looked closely enough, he'd realize the soles of Blaine's feet weren't even touching the ground.

"I don't want to tell you too much," Blaine confessed. "Because, well, you're not supposed to know about me in the first place." Kurt was about to argue, and undoubtedly bring up the fact that Blaine showed himself to Kurt first, so Blaine continued, "Five questions."

"The game is twenty questions."

Blaine smiled and Kurt noticed that his teeth were as white as the rest of him.

"We aren't playing a game," he said.

Kurt stood up, making him eye-to-eye with Blaine as if testing him. When Blaine didn't budge, or disappear, Kurt nodded.

"Question one-"

"You only have five, so use them wisely," Blaine reminded him.

"Question one," Kurt repeated, "why you? I don't even know you. Why not my mother?"

"Technically, that's two-"

Kurt's "Blaine!" was slightly exaggerated.

Blaine grinned and flopped down onto Kurt's father's bed, not making contact with anything at all. He really looked like he was sitting; it was so strange.

"It isn't like the lottery, Kurt," Blaine started. "I've always just been there, watching over you for as long as I can remember. Do you want to know my first memory?"

Kurt was slightly hesitant, but agreed.

"We were three, I think. Your birthday was approaching because I remember you had lists of potential presents sprawled across your little desk. You couldn't write, so it was just drawings of things you wanted, and let me tell you, you wanted some crazy things!"

Kurt laughed, remembering that list. It was fourteen pages long.

"When you showed the list to your parents, they were floored. Melinda and Craig – your mother's angel – were laughing their wings off! Your mother insisted that you could only have one thing. You looked so crushed; I mean, you worked on that list for weeks, but you searched the pages and found the tall, red heel, and exclaimed, 'I want a pair of sensible heels!' That was my first memory."

Halfway through the story, Kurt's knees turned to jelly. He collapsed into the chair beside his father.

"I don't think it's random," Blaine said. "I must have known you in another life – cared about you or something. You must have been important to me sometime, somewhere."

Kurt gulped, feeling suddenly cold. This was a lot to swallow.

"But I don't know, honestly," Blaine finished.

Hugging himself, Kurt muttered, "Waste of a first question," even though that was more than enough information for one answer.

Biting at his cheek, Blaine slide off the bed. "I'll just leave you."

And as Blaine started to fade, Kurt jumped forward, and his hand passed through Blaine's arm. Blaine rematerialized.

"Yeah?"

"Just...if I call for you, Blaine..."

"I'll be here. I'm always here, actually," Blaine laughed, warm and happy.

Kurt bit back a smile. "I think a signal would be smart," he said as an afterthought.

Blaine hummed. "I'll send a glowing light before I pop in."

Kurt remembered Blaine's light in his dark room, a few nights ago, and shivered.

"Okay," Kurt agreed. "I just have to ask you something, and I'm not using one of my questions!"

Blaine smiled, folding his arms across his chest. He nodded, motioning for Kurt to proceed.

"Where are your wings?"

This question had been eating at Kurt since Blaine appeared at his side a few minutes ago. Those huge, white wings were hard to miss, and now they were just gone.

Blaine shrugged, then looked over his shoulder as his wings extended over him. Kurt held his breath; they were memorizing.

"If I tuck them real close, they disappear," Blaine said simply.

He reached across his torso and touched the edge of his wing, stroking the feathers. Kurt thought it was an odd gesture then saw the look on Blaine's face: concern.

Kurt stared for a long second at the white wings, lined with brown feathers along the edges. What was Blaine so concerned about?

* * *

Kurt was nine the third time he saw Blaine.

It was at a hospital, too, and hospitals were becoming one of Kurt's least favorite places.

Earlier he'd gotten surgery on something in his neck. ("They're putting bolts in your neck to hold your head on straight," his dad joked, "like Frankenstein.") But as much as he begged his dad to stay the night, the nurses wouldn't have it, so Kurt was alone.

He was curled under his sheets, trying his hardest to fall asleep, but everything caught his attention: the broken street-light that flickered directly outside his window, the shadows of workers that drifted passed in the hallway, every creak his bed made. Kurt was actually fully awake.

"You should really go to sleep," a voice whispered.

Kurt, who was on his side, facing the cracked door, flipped onto his other side. Sitting on the empty bed next to him was Blaine. He was ever so slightly glowing.

"I was just about to!" Kurt fought, tugging the blankets closer to his chin.

Blaine chuckled, laying flat on the bed, hands cupping the back of his head. He turned his head to look at Kurt.

"Is that why you were staring out the window for about an hour?" he retorted, pulling his gaze away from Kurt, smirking.

Kurt made a disgruntled noise. "That's so creepy, Blaine."

"Shhh, go to bed."

_Ugh, you come at the worst_ _possible times!_ Kurt thought.

Annoyed, Kurt rolled over so he wasn't facing Blaine anymore. He wanted to ignore him, but there was the tiniest, littlest part of his brain that wanted to know Blaine. And this tiny, little part was seriously banging on the inner walls of Kurt's head, forcing him to stay awake.

Nonetheless, Kurt shut his eyes, and muttered, "I'm going to just fall asleep, and then you're going to be gone when I wake up. That's what happened last time, at least – in my tree house."

Blaine's voice was suddenly closer. Kurt didn't even hear him get off the bed. "Are you mad at me for that?"

"Sometimes. Right now, I'm just going to pretend I'm dreaming you up."

Blaine laughed. "This isn't a dream."

Kurt peered over his shoulder. Blaine was standing beside his bed. The light in the window flickered off, but Blaine retained a soft, clear glow.

"Why are you glowing then?" Kurt said dismissively, turning away.

"I'm just getting used to some new things that are happening to me," Blaine said.

"Don't worry, I heard Noah Puckerman and Finn Hudson talking about that in gym the other day. It's supposed to be normal. I'm not sure what they're talking about," Kurt whispered, eyes getting heavier.

"You're falling asleep," Blaine said with a soft laugh.

"I am not," Kurt yawned.

"Goodnight, Kurt," Blaine whispered, his voice pulling away with each syllable.

And then Kurt was asleep.

In the morning, Kurt was right. Blaine wasn't there. In his head, he told himself that the night before was all definitely a dream, but his better judgment was saying it wasn't.

Then he remembered something he said to Blaine. About glowing being normal for boys his age. Glowing was _not_ normal at all.

Which made Blaine...what?

* * *

**Teaser for Next Chapter:**

"Don't you wish you had your own life?"

"I do."

"You don't. You just exist in mine. Don't you ever get happy or sad or feel anything?"


	4. The Promise

**Last Chapter: **___Because Kurt had a million questions, Blaine allowed Kurt to ask him five.____After promising to come whenever Kurt called, Blaine started to disappear, only to have Kurt ask one last question: where were his wings? The answer was simple: they disappeared when Blaine held them close together, he said as he cautiously inspected his wings._

Four.

The Promise.

Santana was sitting on the piano. Again.

Blaine followed closely behind Kurt (who didn't realize Blaine's presence) as he walked into the chorus room for Glee club rehearsal – Blaine's favorite part of Kurt's day.

"Polly-Pocket, sit here today," Santana said, pulling down her tight white dress.

Blaine chuckled, multitasking between getting to the piano and staring after Kurt.

"He just has to walk across the room. Focus on me now. Nothing's going to happen to the kid," Santana insisted.

"Just doing my job," Blaine said, climbing up beside his friend. "So, fill me in."

"Fill ___me_ in! I haven't seen my favorite pint-sized angel since Friday, and now it's Tuesday!"

Blaine watched Kurt sit alone in the corner. Remorse flooded over him, and it was like he was drowning in it. If Santana wasn't so intimidating, he'd be beside Kurt right now. Sometimes Blaine didn't understand how Santana was an angel, though her black wings gave her the opposite effect.

"Kurt's dad still isn't out of his coma," Blaine said softly, eyes never leaving Kurt.

"No! Seriously? Britt spend hours making him a card. 'Heart attacks are from loving too much,' it says," Santana said, her eyes on Brittany, who was in the pile of Glee clubbers staring Kurt down.

"Subject change?" Blaine pleaded. "This is my whole life right now and it's a bit morbid. Also, I have some news."

Santana pulled her gaze away from Brittany (she was such a hypocrite sometimes) and listened to Blaine intently.

"I showed myself to Kurt."

Santana waved him off, unimpressed. "Old news."

"No, new news! It was yesterday, and two other times."

"Rebel," Santana said in mock shock, waving at Brittany, who was looking their way. She sent Santana a tiny wave as well.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Maybe I'm not Santana Lopez: Rule Breaker Extraordinaire, but it's still a huge thing! We were eleven the last time I let Kurt see me."

Santana laughed, "I'm busting you, Blaine. What happened?"

Blaine shrugged. "Everything. Kurt and I have an understanding."

"Which is?" Santana probed on, eyes flickering to Brittany again. This was a tendency with angels.

"I don't hide from him."

Santana snorted. "You're hiding from him now."

Oh. Santana was right. But Kurt only wanted Blaine to appear when he called. Or...did he want Blaine to be around all the time? Kurt did look so alone. He caught Brittany and Santana looking at each other again. Should it be like that?

"I'll be back," Blaine said, jumping off the piano.

He made his way across the room, ignoring the various angels, who watched Blaine closely. They all must have heard about Kurt's father because all the other's angels being present never happened. Angels could phase out whenever they wanted to. And they usually always wanted to.

Blaine stole the seat behind Kurt. He leaned forward, his lips almost touching Kurt's ear.

"Kurt," he whispered.

Kurt jumped, of course. He glanced around stealthy.

"Are you fine?" Blaine continued.

Kurt pursed his lips, giving a quick nod. Blaine seemed satisfied with the answer because he pulled away and leaned back into the plastic chair. Blaine smiled at Santana, shrugging. She followed after him, sitting herself on the windowsill over Blaine.

"I swear, that Brad guy can see me," she confessed, kicking the back of Blaine's chair. "He needs to stop. ___I'm not alive enough for you, sweetheart__._"

Blaine snorted, despite himself.

Glee club that day turned out to be mortifying. Apparently, all the members prepared religious songs to inspire Kurt, but as Blaine watched his expressions during each – uncomfortable, as if enduring the numbers rather than enjoying them – he could tell Kurt was wishing he had skipped the rest of the week.

After the last song, Kurt couldn't handle it anymore. Blaine watched as Kurt got up and faced the room. After thanking them, he said, "I've prepared a number for the occasion."

"Spoiler alert: Ladyface is gonna sing now," Santana announced, taking Kurt's seat, but Blaine ignored her.

"On the day of my mom's funeral, when they were lowering her body into the ground, I was crying. I mean, that was it. It was the last time I was ever going to see her." Blaine remembered the day vividly. "I remember I looked up at my dad and I just wanted him to say something. Something to make me feel like my whole world wasn't over. And he just took my hand and squeezed it. Just knowing that those hands were there to take care of me, that was enough. This is for my dad."

Blaine felt hollow, and hoped on hope that Mr. Hummel would make it through this – for Kurt's sake.

Kurt sang that one Beatles song that constantly played on his iPod; Blaine remembered it because it always came up after a huge Broadway number. So, it was horribly out of place and stuck out in Blaine's mind. As Kurt sang, Blaine was having a hard time watching him fall apart. It only reminded him of the little broken boy crying for his mother to come back, and he thought of how cruel it was that he'd be doing the same not even ten years later for his father.

Then Kurt did that thing which made Blaine's insides jump. The first time it happened, they were young – long before Kurt's mother died. And even though Blaine and Kurt had an understanding, as he had told Santana, even though Kurt knew Blaine existed and that he was probably in the room somewhere, Blaine still shivered.

Kurt was staring directly into his eyes. Blaine knew that he was invisible**,** but couldn't shake the feeling that Kurt could actually see him.

That's why Blaine did something really stupid then (he had to stop calling it stupid, even though it was). He showed himself to Kurt.

Kurt, whose vision must have been distorted from the tears in his eyes, slapped them away and looked up. He did a few things at once: sang while gasping, jumped while standing still, and glared at Blaine while still managing to look sad. Blaine made a mental note to congratulate Kurt on his multitasking skills.

As the Glee Club huddled around Kurt for a group hug when the song ended, Kurt's eyes never left Blaine.

He didn't look pleased.

* * *

Kurt was nine the fourth time he saw Blaine.

It was in a dumpster.

Kurt was outside in the courtyard of McKinley Elementary, waiting for his father. He was late – again. Usually his mother got him from school, so Kurt supposed it was understandable.

It happened so fast; Kurt didn't even realize what was going on until it happened. One minute, the nine year old was sitting on the steps, craning his head towards the parking lot, and then the next minute he was being hoisted in the air.

"W-what are you doing?" Kurt gasped, squirming into the four or five sets of arms holding him up.

"I've been too nice to you lately, Princess, and my nice-ness is finally stopping today," Noah Puckerman, the boy that broke his wrist a year ago, said.

Then Kurt was getting tossed into the air. Kurt, bracing himself to feel pain, landed on his back on bags of plastic, full of soft material to cushion his fall. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief before tipping his head back to look past the dumpster doors, up to the sky.

"If only you were here, Mom, this wouldn't be happening," Kurt mumbled softly over the howling of laughter.

"You can't let them treat you like that, Kurt."

Kurt jumped, of course. He pressed his elbows into the garbage, peering over himself to see Blaine sitting beside his left leg.

"How do you suppose I do that? I'm almost as tiny as that Rachel girl that sings karaoke in the sand box at recess. That Quinn girl always kicks sand in her face or throw rocks at her head. I'm just as doomed!" Kurt said dramatically.

"Please," Blaine exclaimed, stretching out the word. "You're smarter than them. Today, Noah was teaming up with that Finn and that girl Brittany to figure out their five times tables, but realized they didn't have enough hands for 5X7."

"So?"

"So, you can be one step ahead of them all, if you just pay attention. Six boys laughing, staring at you like you're a helpless doe – you didn't find that suspicious?"

"Wait," Kurt said, finding the bottom of the dumpster to stand up, "you saw that and didn't warn me?"

"I couldn't though, Kurt," Blaine said, staring down into his lap.

Kurt huffed out an angry noise, scrambling to his feet.

"You have to stop coming around!" he said forcefully. "You're no help. You just sit there and tell me my problems. I know my problems, Blaine, and you not helping just means you're not helping."

"That doesn't make sen-"

"I'm no more alone than when you show up, so I don't need you."

Kurt stomped to the edge of the dumpster, grabbing hold of the rim. He pulled up, his shoes sliding against the green metal, making it hard for him to get out.

He half expected Blaine to hoist him up, so when he said, "Really, Blaine?" and turned his head to find himself just as alone as he said he was. The sight shook him. Kurt lost his grip and fell back into the sea of bags.

Two things could have happened: first, Blaine was never there, and Kurt was going insane. Second, Blaine disappeared on command, like a ghost. The day was mildly hot, but that didn't stop the rows of goosebumps from raising across Kurt's body.

* * *

After Glee, Kurt stormed home, pissed. He waited till the perfect moment to blow.

"What the ___hell_, Blaine?" Kurt exclaimed, snapping his bedroom door shut. "You have ten seconds to show up, or I'm throwing you a going away exorcism."

Suddenly, a white ball of light appeared in front of Kurt. Angrily, Kurt swatted at it, like a cat. Within the second, Blaine was fully materialized. His face was slightly shocked.

"You hit me," he gasped, extending his arms to look for cuts, or bruises, or whatever scratches angels got. "And I'm an angel, not possessed by-"

"New rule!" Kurt huffed. "You're not allowed to be invisible anymore."

"But-"

Kurt, whose eyes were glowing with anger, shook his head, turning. He threw his bag down, hard; it bounced on the bed.

"I am the only one who can see you, Blaine. It's not okay for you to just show up!"

"But I thought that's what you wanted," Blaine retorted, pulling back slightly.

"That white light? Where was it in the chorus room? Twice! Those two times you came."

"I forgot..."

Kurt rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. Kurt was always mad at Blaine, Blaine decided. He could never do anything right.

"Well, yeah," Kurt said, shuffling passed Blaine. "Like, what do you even do? Sit around watching me all day?"

"Kind of," Blaine said sheepishly. Kurt groaned, pulling open his dresser drawers. "I mean, it doesn't really phase me. All my days just meld together."

"That's a sad life. I know myself; I'm not that interesting. I'm sorry you had to watch over me," Kurt replied, not sounded actually sympathetic.

"Don't be sorry."

Sighing, Kurt asked, "Don't you ever get tired of it? Of me?"

"No."

Kurt hugged his clothes against his chest as he slowly turned to face Blaine.

"Don't you wish you had your own life?"

"I do."

"You don't. You just exist in mine. Don't you ever get happy or sad or feel anything?"

Blaine thought for a second, pacing backwards towards Kurt's bed, which he sat on. He racked his brain for a time he actually felt something.

"When you're sad-"

"No. No, let's focus on you for one minute," Kurt fought.

"I am," Blaine said. "When you're sad, I'm sad."

"Well, you must be sad a lot."

Blaine focused intently on his shoes, also white. "Too much. That's why I keep showing myself to you. Because, I'm also happiest when you're happy."

Kurt stared at Blaine for a good second, really searching his face.

_Oh._

"Just promise me you won't disappear?" Kurt requested, looking away and walking towards the door.

"You're not going to feel weird with me always being around?" Blaine asked, walking after him.

"I guess not, no," Kurt said, walking down the hall. As he got to the bathroom door, he stopped. "Wait..."

Blaine stopped too, looking questioningly at him.

"You're following me," Kurt stated.

"I thought we established this."

"_No_," Kurt stressed. "I'm going to take a shower, Blaine."

"Um?" Blaine said, not really understanding Kurt.

"Do you normally _watch_? What do you do? Sit on the tub floor?"

Blaine gaped slightly. "No! I'm usually on the sink, listening to you sing."

"And not once have you ever peeked?" Kurt questioned, his cheeks flushing.

"I mean, you come out of the shower..."

"BLAINE!" Kurt gasped, bringing his forehead to the floor frame.

"Seriously, it's nothing," Blaine protested.

"No, you sit out here from now on. No more free shows for you," Kurt said, pushing Blaine away and slamming the door.

* * *

**Teaser for Next Chapter:**

"That's so...sad, Blaine. You mean, you can't ever... You won't ever..."

"I can't fall in love," he said, unphased.


	5. The News

**Last Chapter: **Santana, Brittany's angel, prompts Blaine to not hide from Kurt. He listens, and Kurt is not pleased. He makes Blaine promise to not disappear anymore.

Five.

The News.

Kurt was eleven the fifth time he saw Blaine.

He remembered the day vividly. It was the first Sunday of the month – the only day, every month, he'd go up to his tree house. He did this for two years. He'd clear his head, think about his life, his parents, school, how he didn't have a single friend. Today he was thinking about how he'd have to give this tree house up.

This was the last Sunday.

"After that storm, that tree house isn't safe anymore, Kurt," his dad had said a few days ago.

But he had to say goodbye. This was the only thing he had left that reminded him of his mother – this and that dresser that smelled like her.

"I don't think you should be up here, Kurt."

Kurt, who was leaning against the windowsill that faced his neighbor's yard, jumped and span around.

"Blaine?" Kurt choked, holding onto himself as if he was literally going to fall apart.

"Seriously, Kurt, this tree isn't safe," Blaine said, apprehensively looking around.

"I just wanted to say goodbye," Kurt fought.

"You've had more than enough time. You really should go," Blaine said frantically.

Kurt narrowed his eyes at Blaine before turning away. He took one good look at the walls, covered his pictures and drawings, crafts and fabrics. He turned off the Christmas lights and faced Blaine. He was slightly glowing, again.

"This place is really unsafe," Blaine repeated.

"This place is the only place I've ever felt safe."

Kurt weaved passed Blaine, making his way down into the branches. When his feet touched the grassy ground, Kurt stared up, giving the wooden structure one last look.

"Your dad isn't home," Blaine said.

Kurt jumped again; Blaine was beside him. He shouldn't be so surprised. Blaine was just being Blaine. Annoyed, Kurt walked around the boy, not making eye contact.

"Yeah, so?"

"Did you want to be alone?" Blaine questioned, following close behind him.

"I'm just going to make dinner," Kurt answered. Blaine groaned. "What?"

Blaine sat up on the kitchen counter, crossing his legs. "I just get worried that you're going to burn down the house."

"I don't need you to worry. I can cook just fine."

Kurt snatched a cookbook from the rack on the counter, headed to the fridge, crouched down, pushed the book open on the floor, and then started gathering items into his arms. Blaine jumped off the counter and hovered over him. When Kurt stood up, they were face to face.

"Did you want to stay for dinner?" Kurt asked, feeling awkward.

"I don't really eat."

Kurt wasn't even surprised. Shaking his head, he side-stepped Blaine and dumped the ingredients onto the counter.

Kurt cooked, every so often looking to his right to find Blaine sitting on the counter again, watching, swinging his feet. It annoyed the heck out of Kurt. Blaine seemed to be the only person who wanted to talk to him; it was all so _fantastic_that Kurt was 80% sure that he'd made up Blaine in his head. So, that was good.

Kurt cursed himself for creating someone so infuriating.

After dinner, Kurt went up to his bedroom. Blaine followed. He almost slammed the door in his face.

Standing over his desk, Kurt muttered, "Why'd you show up this time? It's not my mom's funeral. I'm not in the hospital. And I'm not in a dumpster. So, what sad, sad thing happened that made you come out of a year's worth of hiding?"

"I just don't want you to be alone."

It was simple. Blaine, who was standing against the door, gave Kurt a quick smile – just a little upturn of his lips. Kurt, who had been defensive, heaved out a heavy breath.

"And I appreciate that, but I don't know what this is," he said honestly, walking towards Blaine.

"I'm your friend."

"No, I don't have any friends."

"Well, you have me," Blaine stated.

Kurt was really close now. "And what are you?"

Blaine looked at Kurt for a moment, his stare burning into his eyes. Then he shook his head, almost imperceptibly.

"Are you even real?" Kurt whispered.

Blaine bit down on the inside of his cheek, looking sideways at the ground. His breath hunched, and without making eye contact, he answered, "No."

Kurt's lungs collapsed. Looking at Blaine, almost hurt, he took a step back. His eyes rolled down Blaine's figure, taking him in. He looked real; he always did. But this boy was far too unbelievable to be real, in his opinion.

"That doesn't mean I can't be there for you," Blaine said suddenly. "I care about you, Kurt."

"Can you just go?" Kurt questioned.

Blaine froze, staring up at Kurt, looking absolutely broken.

"Like forever?" Kurt finished.

Blaine huffed out a breath. "I-I'm sorry. Yes. Yeah, I'll just...I'll go."

Not making eye contact, Blaine walked around Kurt, towards the door. He didn't open it; he merely walked through it. Gasping, Kurt run and ripped the door open, expecting to see Blaine trudging down the hall, but he was gone.

Something just snapped inside of Kurt. Blaine was gone.

"No!" Kurt called. "Blaine, come back! I'm sorry!"

But no one came.

The guilt washed over him fast. He'd never see Blaine again. He'd cast him away – his only friend. The guilt fused into pain and Kurt felt weak from it.

"Please," Kurt whispered, gripping the door handle.

"Kurt," Blaine sighed.

Spinning far too fast that he made himself dizzy, Kurt came face to face with Blaine. The boy in white just shrugged, looking apprehensive. Without thinking, Kurt lunged forward. He wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders, holding him tight.

It was the first time they ever touched.

"Oh no, Kurt! No!" Blaine gasped.

And then Kurt was suddenly hugging air.

Blaine was gone.

* * *

Six years later, Blaine hadn't left Kurt's side in about a week. He was everywhere, at every turn, around every corner. Blaine filled the little lonely hole left inside of Kurt – one Kurt hadn't realized was there until now, until he didn't have his dad anymore.

Walking out of the hospital with Blaine right behind him, Kurt began to follow the long stone fence encircling the building, and managed to get to the end of the parking-lot. Kurt lifted himself up onto the rocks; Blaine followed suit.

"Do you think he's ever going to wake up?" Kurt asked, tapping the back of his foot against the fence.

"Yeah, of course," Blaine says, patting Kurt on the back.

Kurt jumped, almost falling off the fence, but Blaine gripped his elbow, keeping him up.

"You touched me, Blaine!" Kurt gasped, looking down Blaine's hands around his arm.

"Um, yeah," Blaine said, letting go.

Kurt pulled his legs up to sit Indian-style. "The last time that happened..." He trailed off.

"I know," Blaine muttered. "I disappeared. I was scared."

"I know the feeling," Kurt said, brushing his knee against Blaine's thigh. Where it touched. Where he could feel the boy beside him. "Can I ask my second question?" Blaine nodded. "Where did you go?"

Blaine's eyes darted somewhere passed Kurt's head.

"Take out your phone," he said suddenly.

Kurt, with a confused look on his face, did was he was told. As he handed Blaine the phone, Blaine shook his head. He pointed to a car coming into the parking-lot.

"This is a hospital. If people see you talking to yourself, it won't be a far walk to the psych ward," Blaine said, pushing Kurt's hand towards him.

Understanding, Kurt brought the phone to his ear.

"And to answer your question," Blaine continued, "I never left."

"Paint me a picture. What do you mean?" Kurt asked, eying the people coming out of their car.

"You hugged me," Blaine began. "I just slipped out of your arms, but I was still standing there, staring at you, wondering how on Earth I felt you."

"And then where did you go?"

"What do you mean? I never went anywhere," Blaine chuckled, leaning back on his arms.

"So, whenever I told you to go, you stayed?" Kurt asked, dropping his phone into his lap as the family walked into the hospital.

"There's nowhere else for me to go."

Kurt looked across Blaine's face. He didn't look sad. Why didn't he look sad? That was an awful life!

"Blaine, you don't have to stay here. You can go wherever you want! I don't want to hold you back! I'd go to Paris or Italy or the moon, if I could. What's stopping you?"

Kurt was touching Blaine's arm, really taking advantage of the knowledge that he could reach out and hold onto Blaine.

"Kurt, I can't."

"Yes, you can!" Kurt said brightly, nodding. "If this is a permission thing, as the person you're guarding, I give you-"

"Listen, Kurt," Blaine said, shaking his head, "I can't. It's not like I don't want to. ___I can't__. _I wish I could explain it to you, but I don't understand why or what or...Kurt, I just-"

"It's okay, Blaine," Kurt assured.

"I'm fine, either way. Content."

Kurt sighed. "One day, I'll get out of this town, and show you the world. Promise."

Blaine smiled, and absentmindedly started to hum "A Whole New World." Kurt gasped, slapping Blaine's arm.

"Hey! You're not supposed to know that song!"

"Really? Because you watched ___Aladdin _everyday for a year when we were little."

Kurt fused his eyebrows. "You really have been around my whole life."

There was an awkward silence where Kurt just thought of all the moments he inadvertently shared with Blaine. Birthdays. Happy moments. Sad moments. Everything, really.

"So is my dad's angel your mom or...?" Kurt questioned, getting out of his own head.

"I mean, I don't consider Melinda my mother, but I guess," Blaine answered. "She raised me."

"And my mom's..."

"Her guardian angel's name was Craig."

Kurt nodded, bringing his knees to his chest.

"Where is he?" Kurt asked softly.

Blaine shrugged. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

"Were they married? Or loved each other – Melinda and Craig? Is she-"

"Kurt," Blaine interjected. "No, don't worry about that. We can't fall in love. They weren't."

"That's so...sad, Blaine. You mean, you can't ever... You won't ever..."

"I can't fall in love," he said, unphased.

There was a turning in Kurt's stomach, and he couldn't quite place the emotion, so he followed with, "That's okay. I won't ever find someone to love either."

Blaine shook his head, smiling. "Stop. Of course you will!"

"No, seriously, I am the only gay kid in all of Lima. At least, the only one willing to admit it."

"Well then, when you're showing me the world, we'll have to find you someone to love," Blaine declared then added as an afterthought, "I hope his angel's nice."

"Why? Aren't you all?"

Blaine's eyes bugged out. "_No_! That Rachel Berry's angel is an asshole!"

Kurt's mouth dropped open. "No! You're not allowed to curse! You're an angel – ruins the stereotype."

Blaine laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. Kurt laughed, too. He felt lighter, somehow, with Blaine next to him. Blaine would never be gone, and with his wings always tucked away, completely invisible to Kurt, Blaine was as human as human could be. Not a mythical creature- just a boy, a friend.

They both stopped laughing, but the smiles didn't drop from their eyes as they gazed at each other.

"KURT!"

Kurt would have fallen off the stone wall if Blaine didn't grab hold of his torso. Sucking in deep breaths, Kurt watched Finn running towards him.

"___Hide_," Kurt hissed into Blaine's ear.

Pulling back, Blaine looked at Kurt with an expression that read as ___wait-seriously?-no-one-can-see-me!_ Kurt mouthed an, ___Oh._

"Finn?"

"Kurt!" Finn called, out of breath. "Your dad-"

"What?" Kurt gasped, jumping out of Blaine's arms and off the fence.

"He's awake."

* * *

**Teaser for Next Chapter:**

When Blaine showed Kurt his wings the first time, they were fully white, with the slightest hint of brown along the rim. Now, the brown was slowly creeping up. Almost half of Blaine's wings were brown, like he fell in mud or got splattered with dirty water.

Kurt paced forward. Without thinking too much, he dipped his fingered into the still white feathers of Blaine's wings. They were soft, and Blaine let out a soft, affectionate noise.


	6. The Different Colors

**From Last Chapter: **Kurt learns a lot about Blaine. First, the pair can touch. Second, Blaine is constantly around, and even if he wanted to leave Kurt's side, he wouldn't be able to. Third, angels can't fall in love. On top of all of this, Kurt's dad wakes up.

Six.

The Different Colors

Kurt rested his forehead against the steering wheel, grinning vibrantly.

"Kurt, the light is green," Blaine noted.

Kurt made a happy humming noise, picked his head up, and proceeded to push on the gas.

"Blaine, he's okay! My dad is okay!"

"I'm really happy for you, but keep your eyes on the road!" Blaine yelped, covering his eyes as Kurt almost hit the back of a large van.

Kurt passively waved the angel off. "I can drive and talk, Blaine."

"I beg to differ," Blaine muttered.

Kurt ignored him. "I wish I could have stayed all night."

"It's better that you're getting some sleep, honestly," Blaine commented. "He'll be there tomorrow."

"Good. I need to start preparing for his return! I basically need to baby proof everything," Kurt said, making mental notes of what to buy.

"He just got out of a coma, Kurt, not finished up his pregnancy."

"I'm taking no risks," Kurt said, switching lanes without looking.

"KURT!" Blaine gasped, pointing to the car that swerved behind theirs.

"What?" Kurt said annoyed. "I wasn't anywhere close to that car!"

"You didn't even look!"

Kurt just reached forward, turning on the radio. "You're infuriating when I drive."

"You're an awful driver," Blaine retorted.

"I drive as well as any other person, thank you very much. If you weren't such a worry wart... You worry about everything. You're a grandmother, Blaine."

"It's in the job description."

"Oh, okay," Kurt mocked.

"And besides," Blaine stressed, "cars are probably one of the worst inventions since knifes or fire."

Kurt glanced sideways. "I'm trying to decide if you're kidding or not. I don't think you are."

"My one friend-"

"Wait, you have friends?"

"Other angels!" Blaine said, batting at Kurt's arm. "Her name's Santana: Brittany S. Pierce's guardian. She tried all last year to convince Brittany to walk everywhere. Angels and cars aren't a good mix."

"I have a hard time believing Britt even passed her permit test."

"Much to her angel's glee."

Kurt chuckled, actually looking, for Blaine's sake, before he switched lanes again. It didn't take more than ten minutes to get home, and as the car slowed, Kurt could visually see Blaine lose the tension in his shoulders.

"This seriously kills you, huh?" Kurt asked, shutting off his headlights.

"More than you know," Blaine breathed. "But no more than amusement parks or elevators. It's the loss of control, really."

Kurt shook his head, having a hard time hiding how amused he was, and got out of the car. Blaine did the same, slipping past all the metal until he was standing, staring at Kurt from over the car hood.

"You have irrational fears," Kurt insisted, locking the car.

They walked up the pavement to the house. As Kurt fiddled with the keys, Blaine said, "But how safe is a huge, hulking chunk of metal that people have pleasure scraping themselves onto just to spin and go fast?"

"You're right," Kurt agreed, pushing the door open. "We humans go to extremes to reach a high. Too bad they're also incredibly fun."

They made their way into the empty house. The first thing Kurt did was get a bottle of water out of the fridge. He offered Blaine something, forgetting the boy couldn't grasp anything even if he did want to. As they made their way up to Kurt's room, they talked about Kurt's favorite rides, which turned out to be Blaine's least favorite.

"But if you think about it, even the safest rides can be dangerous. I could get my arm caught in the gears, and-"

"Oh, all right!" Blaine cried, sitting on Kurt's bed.

Kurt laughed, digging through his pajamas drawer. "Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for being overprotective."

"Just part of the job."

"No, not really," Kurt mumbled, giving a small grin.

"You should get some sleep – especially if we're baby proofing the house tomorrow," Blaine said teasingly.

"Yeah. Do you think, maybe, you could close your eyes or...? I have to change."

Blaine smiled, nodding his head once. Instead of closing his eyes, or covering them with his hands, Blaine squared his shoulders, letting his wings open and bend to cover his front completely. Kurt's eyes never left the wings as he peeled away his clothes.

Something struck Kurt as he pulled his pajama pants over his hips. The once white feathers looked stained. When Blaine showed Kurt his wings the first time, they were white with the slightest hint of brown along the rim. Now, the brown was slowly creeping up. Almost half of Blaine's wings were brown, like he fell in mud or got splattered with dirty water.

Kurt paced forward. Without thinking too much, he dipped his fingered into the still white feathers of Blaine's wings. They were soft, and Blaine let out a soft, affectionate noise.

Blaine peeked over his wings. Kurt smiled down at him, and he retracted his wings until they were sitting neatly at his sides.

"Sorry," Kurt mumbled, rounding the bed and crawling towards the pillows.

"No, that's fine," Blaine said, getting up.

"Blaine?" Kurt muttered, getting under the covers. "You don't always stay when I fall asleep; I've noticed if I randomly wake up at night. Do you think you'd want to stay the night tonight?"

Blaine laughed, sitting at Kurt's vanity. "I always do."

Kurt nodded, his cheek against the pillow. "Maybe...I mean, you don't have to, I just... You could sleep here, if you want."

"I don't really sleep though."

Into the softness of his pillow, Kurt said, "You could lay with me."

Blaine mouthed an 'oh' and nodded, and then he picked himself up, tucked away his wings, and crawled onto the bed, facing Kurt on top of the covers.

"Better?" Blaine questioned.

"Yeah," Kurt replied, his eyes feeling heavy. "Could I ask you a question? Like my third question?"

"Of course."

Pulling the covers closer to his chin, Kurt asked, "What's happening to your wings?" Blaine's brow furrowed. "They aren't as white as I remember."

"No, they aren't," Blaine mumbled.

"Do you know, or...?"

Blaine nodded then flipped onto his back. "I just don't want you to get upset or anything."

"Why would that upset me?" Kurt asked, perching up onto his left elbow.

"Because you're the reason my wings are a different color," Blaine said carefully.

"I don't understand."

Blaine looked over at Kurt. "Every time I let you see me, they change. They were pure white when I first got them."

"So, what you're saying is: I'm taking away your purity? That makes me sound like a monster!"

"No! No, not at all."

"Are you breaking a law or something? Are you going to get in trouble with the Angel Council in Angel Court? Because, if that's the case-"

"It's not. I promise," Blaine interrupted, sitting up. "None of those things exist. What we're doing isn't bad. Santana and Brittany have been like this forever, and she's okay. Both of them are."

"What color are her wings?"

"Black." Kurt made an apprehensive face, sitting up as well. "Okay, so mine will probably look like hers in a few years, but they aren't going to burn off in the sun or something ridiculous like that. I'm as pure as the day I met you, Kurt."

Kurt nodded slowly.

"I-I have to do my moisturizing routine," he said abruptly, moving down the bed.

"Do you want me to leave?" Blaine asked.

Kurt halted, staring back at Blaine. "N-no, don't go. I'll be right back," and Kurt fled to his vanity, grabbed some random supplies, and jetted out of the room.

It'd be better for Blaine if he wasn't around Kurt. That's what Kurt decided. He was just too selfish to send Blaine away.

* * *

**Teaser for Next Chapter:**

Our wings changing colors is a myth that has been proven true. There are plenty more that haven't though," Blaine continued. "Our death flashes. Angels disappearing. Breaking the bonds to our humans. Getting our wings."

Kurt stared wide-eyed at Blaine, looking and feeling absolutely stupid. "All of those things: I need you to elaborate on these myths."

"Do you think you can handle all of this in one night?"

"Yes, absolutely," Kurt said, springing up.


	7. The Myths

_Author's_ Note: I haven't neglected this story. I just haven't had internet to post anything, but good news, in my internet-less time, I finished the story all up! Thank you to my Beta, Sarah! =DD

* * *

**From Last Chapter: **Kurt finds out that the reason Blaine's wings are changing color is because the more he's around Kurt, the darker they get.

Seven.

The Myths

It was the third night that Kurt had Blaine stay. His father was coming home in the morning. Having his father back gave Kurt a reason to send Blaine off; he wouldn't be alone anymore, and Blaine could be safe.

But as he stared at Blaine, whose eyes were shut despite the fact that he told Kurt he never slept, Kurt knew he didn't want his angel to go. Not that he'd be gone, but knowing that Blaine was still there, invisible, would literally drive him insane. So, basically, this situation was a fight between Kurt's sanity and Blaine's safety. It was a lose-lose situation, and the "right" choice was obvious. Yet, Kurt couldn't bring himself to decide upon it.

"What is it?" Blaine whispered. He opened his eyes, which made Kurt jump back. Smiling, Blaine reached forward to soothe the other boy, his hand on Kurt's stomach.

"Nothing. What – go to sleep," Kurt whispered, rolling from his back to face away from Blaine.

"Don't need to sleep. Don't need to eat. Not really sure I need to breath all the time, either," Blaine assured. "What's up? Why so restless?"

Kurt knew the basic answer for Blaine's question: he was worried about his angel. That answer, however, would lead Blaine to a simple, comforting, slightly condescending speech about how he was fine. That wasn't what Kurt wanted, so he decided to dig deeper, get to the real root of the situation.

"Tell me about Santana," Kurt said, rolling back over.

Blaine's brow furrowed, searching Kurt's face, then nodded slightly. If Brittany and Santana were a more advanced version of himself and Blaine, Kurt wanted to know the ins-and-outs of these Angel/Human relationships.

"How did you meet her?" Kurt continued.

Blaine thought for a second, tucking his bent arm under his head. "When you were kissing Brittany S. Pierce in your basement."

Kurt nearly choked on the air he inhaled. "Wait, what?"

Blaine laughed. "I've seen Santana a few times in Glee Club, but she mostly stayed invisible to other angels. Not everyone agreed with how she watched over Brittany."

"What do you mean? What has she done to Britt?"

"What we're doing; we let the people we guard see us. Not everyone's accepting of that."

"And you too? People disapprove of us now?"

Blaine shrugged. "I don't care. I only let Santana see me most days anymore. I get the occasional snippy comment from Rachel's angel, but it's nothing I can't handle. They're just scared, which is understandable. I used to be so scared of this." Blaine motioned between them.

"And you're not anymore?" Kurt whispered, holding his breath with a flutter in his chest. _Please say no_, was all Kurt could think.

"Nope," Blaine affirmed cheerfully. "Anyway, back to the story, the four of us were in your basement bedroom for a while, if you can remember."

Kurt felt a blush creep up his neck. "Yeah."

"Santana didn't interact with the other angels, so it started off really awkward. She kept muttering rude comments about you, and-"

"Like what?" Kurt interrupted.

Blaine pursed his lips then said, "I think her exact words were, 'This kid is gayer than Christmas time in the North Pole,' which I'm still not sure if the statement was meant for me or Brittany."

"You defended me, right?"

Blaine brushed his hand against Kurt's arm. "Yes, Kurt. I told her you were confused, which she replied, 'You're confused when deciding if you use shampoo or conditioner first. No, my friend, he is hiding his flaming colors under all that flannel.'"

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. "Not really seeing why you're friends with her, Blaine. Not really seeing how she's an angel either."

"A fight I have with myself every time we're together," Blaine joked. "But we talked. I asked her about the first time she showed herself to Brittany, and then told her our story. Apparently, Brittany's cat Lady Tubbington – no relation – died, drug overdose. Shame. And Brittany cried for weeks, stopped being her happy, carefree self."

"When did this happen? I don't remember this."

"They were six," Blaine answered, really thinking about the age. "You didn't meet Brittany until first grade."

"So, they've been doing this for over ten years."

"Longer than us."

"And nothing's happened?"

Blaine shook his head. "Just her wings changing colors. I think that marks an angel, so other angels see and fear what's happening to them, but no harm is actually done."

"Because you know what you're doing?"

"Most of the time. Our wings changing colors is a myth that has been proven true. There are plenty more that haven't though," Blaine added. "Our death flashes. Angels disappearing. Breaking the bonds to our humans. Getting our wings."

Kurt stared wide-eyed at Blaine, looking and feeling absolutely stupid. "All of those things: I need you to elaborate."

"Do you think you can handle all of this in one night?"

"Yes, absolutely," Kurt said, springing up.

Blaine followed suit. "Well, you know about our wings changing colors when we make ourselves known, so I don't need to brief you on that. But you don't know about getting our wings."

"No, though I don't see the point when they're not constantly there."

"It's mostly a tool to identify other angels. It's also a sort of initiation. An angel gets their wings when they connect to the human they guard. Santana got her wings when she was thirteen. When Santana was a human, she died when she was thirteen."

"When Santana was human? Does that mean...were you a human once before?" Kurt asked, mouth hanging open.

"Sure. And you were probably an angel in another life – no, stop, Kurt. I'm not trying to scare you. It's the truth though. As angels, we get flashes of our deaths. It's only for a few seconds, but Santana said it's vivid. She remembers fire engulfing herself and her family. They were yelling back and forth in Spanish, so Santana thinks it was in Latin America – years and years ago."

"I wonder how her and Britt knew each other," Kurt said softly. "If they did in that past life."

Blaine shrugged. "So, she was getting this flash of her death, basically experiencing it again. According to what Brittany said, she was going in and out of focus. Brittany reached for her, grasping air, grasping her, until Santana was a crying mess in Brittany's arms. Brittany kept whispering, 'It's okay. You're okay,' and Santana cried, 'The fire. The smoke. My family. My home,' and she stared silently praying in Spanish."

"Have you...your death..."

"Not yet," Blaine said, shuddering. "Santana never expected it, so it's just going to happen, whether I'm prepared or not."

"And Santana got her wings like that?"

"Yeah, she realized her purpose is, in her words, 'to help Brittany get from her own magical world back to ours.' They really love each other, you know."

"Wait, you told me angels don't love, can't love," Kurt said.

Blaine laughed, "Not what I meant. They aren't ___in_ love."

"Oh," Kurt mumbled, nodding. "What about the other stuff: the disappearances and bonds?"

"Those aren't too elaborate. Sometimes angels just disappear. But we don't know to where and they never come back. And it's not even to do with their humans dying – it just happens. Which is strange because angels can't break the bond they have with their humans – it's like literally impossible. There's this pull that drags you to us, and it's painful to deny it. That's why I'm always around."

Kurt jumped against the springs of the bed. "That's why you can't go see the world!" he exclaims.

Blaine nods, smiling shyly. "And that's everything about Santana. Does that clear up all of your concerns?"

"Yes," Kurt said, taking Blaine by the arm and pulling the pair down, side-by-side onto the pillows. "Thank you."

"Will you be able to sleep now?" Blaine asked.

"I can try," Kurt said, pulling at the covers. "Did you want to get under?"

"I can't," Blaine chuckled, and when Kurt picked up the blankets further and they passed through Blaine's body, he continued, "See?"

"That is so weird," Kurt muttered. "You're not really here, but I know you are because you're solid. At least to me."

"Yeah, you I can feel, everything else I cannot," Blaine said, grasping Kurt's hand.

Kurt rubbed his thumb across Blaine's fingers, feeling the softness of his skin, the warmth of his hand. Kurt felt the light breath of Blaine across his face. Solid.

"You can't touch anything else?" Kurt questioned, gripping Blaine's hand tighter.

"I don't really have the need to, but with you, I don't have to think about it – it just happens."

"And you can feel this?" Kurt said, brushing down Blaine's arm, feeling how his fingers catch the soft little hairs scattered across his arm.

"I can," he murmured, letting Kurt continue making patterns into the skin of his forearm. "And as interesting as this is for you, it's even crazier for me. You're the only thing I've ever touched."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? You're warm and soft. It's nice."

Kurt bit down on his lip, staring into Blaine's eyes, catching a glance at a very unreadable expression.

"We-we should sleep," Kurt said, not letting go of Blaine's fingers.

"Y-yeah."

"Goodnight, Blaine."

"Night, Kurt."

* * *

**Teaser for Next Chapter:**

"Where are you taking me?" Blaine asked apprehensively, staring out his window at the line of browning trees.

"Almost there," Kurt deflected coyly, drawing out each letter, so that as the phrase ended, Kurt only had to turn once, passed the curtain of trees, and the outline of a tall, contorted structure stood in the distance.

"Please tell me we are not at an amusement park," Blaine groaned.


	8. The Roller Coaster

******From Last******** Chapter:** After a back story on Santana, Blaine explains about angels death flashes, disappearances, breaking the bonds to their humans, and the getting of their wings to Kurt.

Eight

The Roller Coaster

Kurt twirled his pencil as he listened to Azimio butcher the phrase, "I have prepared dinner, but it has become cold" in French. He was translating it into something along the lines of, "I'm ready, and the pickles are getting cold now."

Kurt glanced at Blaine, who was standing beside Azimio, grinning and shaking his head.

"___Sometimes, I think free public education is wasted on you_," Kurt said in French.

"Slow down, Ladyboy," he spat back, glancing down at his textbook.

"___His angel keeps asking what you're saying_," Blaine laughed in French. "___He's just as clueless__._"

Kurt smiled up at Blaine. They were getting so good at this. Their dynamic to keep Blaine's presence a secret was becoming second nature.

Azimio was saying some gibberish in French, when Blaine said, "Your teacher's angel just gave a heads up that she's planning a pop quiz at the end of the period."

"___Go see what's on it_!" Kurt laughed out in French.

With a mischievous grin, Blaine disappeared, and Kurt had a feeling Blaine disappeared from the sight of other angels as well.

Ten minutes later, his French teacher was handing out paper, telling the class to put everything away. ("That includes your textbook, Azimio!") Blaine had been right.

Kurt took a second to watch Azimio fuss over his quiz before Kurt started on his own test. Kurt saw Blaine's index finger before seeing anything else. It was pointing to answer ******A**of question 1. He slapped at Blaine's hand, holding back a laugh.

Up at the top of his paper, he scribbled, very lightly, ___I was kidding! (What kind of angel are you?) I don't need to cheat. You know I'm basically fluent._

Glancing upwards, Blaine, who was sitting on the edge of the desk, shrugged. Kurt erased the note and started, finishing the quiz well before any of the other students. In the last minute of class, Azimio fought to keep his paper a little longer, not wanting to give it up when the teacher came around to collect the remaining students' papers.

When the final bell rang, Kurt pushed into the hallway, aiming to run to his locker before Glee Club. He pulled out his phone.

"Why weren't you around for the SATs? I could be applying for Harvard!" Kurt laughed, glancing sideways at Blaine.

Blaine laughed once, nudging Kurt's arm hard enough that his stumbled sideways into a cheerleader that gave him the stink eye.

"Sorry," he mumbled to her, then a few steps later he groaned at Blaine, "I am so getting a slushy facial for that, thank you very much."

"I'll warn you if I see anything suspicious," Blaine said with a wink.

As if on cue, Kurt was suddenly thrown into a full, waist-high garbage can. He slipped onto the floor, the contents of the bin dumping over himself and the hall.

There was a loud cackle and then a voice said, "Watch where you're going, Princess."

Kurt glared at Karofsky as he pulled the garbage upright while getting up; Blaine gripped his shoulders to help.

"And who are you always on the phone with?" Karofsky asked, bending over to grab the phone that was among the papers, water bottles and other trash scattered across the floor. "All your freak friends are the Glee nerds who go here."

Kurt went to grab for the phone, but Blaine wrapped an arm around his stomach, stopping him. Karofsky's brow furrowed, glancing down at the device.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat as Karofsky said, "There's no one even on the line."

"It probably got disconnected when you bulldozed me into the garbage," Kurt spat back. Blaine gripped Kurt's shoulder, as if to hold him back.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered into his ear.

"Whatever, homo," Karofsky grunted, punching his heavy arm into Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt balled up his fists, glancing over at Blaine while letting out a disgruntled huff.

"His angel apologized," Blaine offered, rubbing up and down Kurt's arm.

"Come on, I'm late for Glee Club," Kurt muttered, circling around Blaine and then down the hall.

* * *

"I can't wait to get out of Lima, Blaine," Kurt complained.

After Glee club, where no one even bothered to notice how dismayed Kurt was, Blaine suggested they get out of town. ("Even though you hate being in a car with me?" Kurt joked, pulling out of the McKinley parking lot. Blaine joked back that he'd survive.) They'd been driving for around twenty minutes.

"Do you mean now or in the future because I think we're out of Lima," Blaine commented.

"In the future. I want to go to college in New York or California; I haven't decided. I just want to be out of Ohio."

"You'll make it out, even without my help on your SATs."

Kurt smiled, staring passed the horizon. They drove for ten more minutes until Kurt pulled down a twisty, isolated road.

"Where are you taking me?" Blaine asked apprehensively, staring out his window at the line of browning trees.

"Almost there!" Kurt sang, drawing out each syllable, so that as the phrase ended, Kurt only had to turn once, past the curtain of trees, and the outline of a tall, contorted structure stood in the distance.

"We are not at an amusement park," Blaine groaned, stretching out his neck to see passed the entrance way into the park.

"Yes and free admission for you," Kurt chuckled, pulling into the almost empty parking-lot. It was five o'clock on a Thursday night at the end of September; no one was here.

"I don't understand how these parks were named," Blaine spoke, as they walked through the large, colorful gate. "___Pure Terror_ or ___Extreme Discomfort_ would better suit this place."

"You'd swear I was bringing you into a delivery room," Kurt said into his phone while smirking at Blaine.

Kurt paid for himself to get in and started walking up the littered pathway, almost tripping over a small dog who was pulling on her leash to try to sniff at Kurt's $200 shoes.

"Pick your poison," Kurt urged into his phone, waving his free arm towards certain rides like a tour guide. Blaine gave Kurt a hard look. "Come on! This is fun!"

"This is not my definition of fun."

"And what is your definition of fun, Blaine?"

Blaine thought hard for a second, twisting his fingers absentmindedly.

"I don't know, I like listening to music. Or when you went to see that show at the community theater with Mercedes, that was fun. Or when you sit around watching old time movies with Carole. I like all those things."

Kurt sneaked into the Tea Cups line, as he said, "So, you're just confirming the fact that you're gay, too?"

"I didn't- you asked me- I like ___football_-"

"Joking," Kurt cut-in with a teasing glint in his eyes. "I don't doubt you, and I know you're not shacking up with other angels when I'm off to bed at night."

"I wouldn't do that to you," Blaine said, quickly.

Kurt's smile faded and his eye brows shot up. He muttered, "Um, so, the Tea Cups. They're fun."

Blaine nodded gingerly, walking around Kurt as the short line moved forward. An awkward tension grew between the pair, as they sat across from each other on the children's ride. Slowly that tenseness dissolved as the ride started, whipping the pair around the medal floor.

Blaine covered his eyes, which made Kurt shout, "Isn't this fun?"

"NO!" Blaine yelled.

Kurt laughed, reaching across the circular, medal handle between them to wrap his hands around Blaine's wrists and tug. Twisting his angel's hands until they were on the metal circle, Kurt placing his palms over Blaine's. He just smiled, and Blaine's scared expression softened.

It took about ten more rides – the swings, the salt-and-pepper-shakers, and so on – before Blaine was having fun. As they exited the carousel, Blaine was practically bouncing.

"We aren't going home, are we?" he asked. "Though it is getting dark."

"Just one more ride," Kurt said, smiling.

"Really? We've gone on like every single one."

"Nope. Not every one."

Kurt stopped. It took Blaine a second to catch on to what Kurt was talking about. They were standing in front of the park's tallest ride, and then Blaine's smile disappeared.

"No."

"Yes!"

"No. I refuse."

"Oh, please?" Kurt brushed off, walking towards the tunnel where the line formed. "You'll have no choice but to follow me."

It wasn't until Kurt slid into his seat that Blaine returned. He stood in the line, where Kurt had just been seconds ago. With a nudge of his head, Kurt motioned for Blaine to sit next to him. Blaine shook his head.

Pouting, Kurt mouthed, ___Please?_

And as the ride jerked into motion, Kurt's eyes never left Blaine's. As the coaster pulled away, Blaine disappeared again. It clicked forward into the dark, black tunnel, and suddenly Kurt felt a hand wrap around his own. He smiled and gripped tighter as the cars emerged into the night. The dim, colorful lights along the wooden coaster shined against the dark, and Kurt caught sight of Blaine beside him.

"Courage," Blaine muttered, shutting his eyes.

"Courage," Kurt repeated.

Then the coaster launched down the peak, gaining speed as it dipped and glided along the track. Kurt had the urge to let go of Blaine's hand and fling his arms into the air, but Blaine's still-scared face only had him holding on tighter.

The coaster took it's course and eventually slowed to a stop.

"Was that as scary as you remember?" Kurt asked.

"No, but I might have fallen off if you'd let go," Blaine retorted.

As the two got off the ride, walked off the ramp, trotted across the park to the parking-lot, they never dropped hold of each other's hand. They stopped at the car. Kurt had pressed his car on at least ten meters away, so the headlights were already shining. Standing by the hood, the light shined against Kurt's frame, casting a single shadow into the grass.

"Well, neither of us have to be so scared anymore," Kurt said, and without much thought, he reached across the space and covered Blaine's cheek with his hand.

Blaine's whole body seemed to soften. He searched Kurt's eyes then smiled. Very softly, Blaine muttered, "People."

Hastily, Kurt dropped his hand, looking over his shoulder. There wasn't a person in sight.

"Right," Kurt mumbled, detached. "Let's go home?"

Blaine nodded, rounding the car.

Kurt took a deep breath before he followed, not realizing until now that his heart was beating at the same speed as the final roller coaster.

* * *

**Teaser For Next Chapter: **

"What is it now, Curly?" Santana asked. "I see your wings are getting darker, which means you are being naughty," and then she clapped.

"Okay, so something's happening to me," Blaine said in all seriousness. "Something's wrong."

Her face changed to something softer. Santana questioned, "What's up, Blaine?"

She never used his real name, and sometimes Blaine thought she actually didn't know it, so hearing her say it caught him off guard.


	9. The Diagnosis

**From Last Chapter: **At school, Kurt continues to get bullied by Karofsky, and then after school, Kurt and Blaine go to an amusement park to concur Blaine's fears. It doesn't necessarily work, but both realize that with each other, neither have to be so scared.

Nine.

The Diagnosis

Blaine was having a hard time waiting until Monday. The weekend was just ticking by way too slowly. Then it was Monday, and the school day was almost painful. Everything was going by at a snail's pace.

"Is something the matter?" Kurt asked the inside of his locker, but looked sideways at Blaine. The last bell rang and they were headed to Glee Club. Good.

"Huh?" Blaine snapped out of daze. "Oh, yeah, I just have to talk to Santana about some stuff. Angel stuff – nothing that concerns you."

Kurt's eyes narrowed as he pushed his locker shut, folding a coat over his arm. They walked side-by-side, not saying anything. When Blaine saw the choir room, he started to pick up speed.

Santana was laying on her stomach across the piano, staring deadpan at Brad, the pianist, their faces a foot or so apart.

"I'll be over here," Blaine mumbled, scampering away from Kurt, whose eyebrows rose.

"I know you see me," Santana cooed, reaching forward, almost touching Brad's face.

"Dilemma," Blaine said immediately, pulling himself up to sit cross-legged on top of the piano beside her.

Sighing, Santana picked herself up, and sat with her legs folded beside her and stared at the other angel.

"What is it now, Curly?" she asked. "I see your wings are getting darker, which means you are being naughty," and then she clapped.

"Okay, so something's happening to me," Blaine said in all seriousness. "Something's wrong."

Her face changed to something softer. "What's up, Blaine?"

She never used his real name, and sometimes Blaine thought she actually didn't know it, so hearing her say it caught him off guard. He talked, nonetheless, all the while staring at Kurt, who was still staring at him.

"On Friday night, Kurt was sleeping. Usually, he has me lay next to him, which is normal; I mean, I don't mind it. And sometimes, we hold hands – you know, until Kurt starts fussing around in his sleep and lets go."

"Okay," Santana interjected, egging Blaine on.

"Well, on Friday, instead of all that, he moved in closer and was clinging to me. His arms were around my torso, his legs were tangled in mine. And I didn't move. I-I couldn't move; I could only watch him.

"And then he said, 'I can hear your heart beating,' in the softest, most unbelieving whisper. I thought he was sleeping – talking in his sleep, like he used to do when he was younger. So, I brushed it off, maybe ran my fingers through his hair once, or something.

"But then he whispered again, 'How is this possible?'

"My heart literally stopped, and Kurt probably heard it because he tilted his head up and smiled at me. Santana, his eyes were so blue in the moonlight. They twinkled and his breath was on my face, and I don't know how I was able to speak, but I somehow managed to ask him what he meant. And then Kurt replied, 'You're the most real thing in my life, but you're not even real,' and his voice was sad, and my chest physically hurt, like a bookshelf collapsing against me.

"'When did I stop being real? I feel pretty real,' I replied. I don't know where I got the voice or the courage.

"He leaned up, bending his back slightly, pressing his weight through his arms into my torso. He just stared – for at least half a minute.

"Then he said, 'Every night I get scared that when I wake up, you'll be gone – like when we were kids. And that all of this was a dream, that all of this was a sick figment of my imagination. That this isn't real.'

"And then I looked at him, collecting my thoughts, even though I didn't have a single one. I heard the words before I thought them: 'This feels real.'

"To which he answered, 'It is,' and then he set his head back over my heart and fell asleep."

Santana was staring, one of her eyebrows raised. "So...?"

Blaine's face crumbled in discomfort. "I thought you'd know."

"I don't understand what you're so confused about."

Rachel started to sing a solo, so Blaine had to lean into Santana when he whispered, "Something changed. In me. I changed."

"What? You get a hard-on, or something?" Santana asked bluntly.

"Wha- no! That's...seriously, Santana?" Blaine's face blushed crimson, and Santana reached forward, pinching his cheek.

"Sorry," she muttered lightly. "You changed, huh? Like, feelings, I'm assuming?" Blaine nodded, shortly. "So, what's the problem?"

"I don't- I don't really understand it. I didn't think it was possible."

"I don't see how it's _not_ possible."

"What do you mean?" Blaine questioned.

"We spend every waking moment with them, Blaine. We know them. We make their mistakes with them and feel their successes. They're our everything."

"That part I already understood."

"Then there are angels like us: stupid enough to care _too much_. And somewhere in the mess we make for ourselves, we fall in love."

Blaine's body went still.

"Love?" Blaine echoed numbly.

Santana searching his face. "Isn't that what you're feeling?"

Blaine looked away, maybe towards the back windows, maybe towards Mr. Schuester, who was talking – he wasn't entirely sure. But he shrugged.

"I don't know what that's supposed to feel like."

Santana nodded, patting Blaine's shoulder. "Well, then that's not what you're feeling, my little Blainey. When you fall in love, you will know."

Blaine hesitated for a second then asked, "You and Brittany?"

"Yeah, that's love. I love her more than I'll ever love anyone else in this stupid, cruel world."

And then Santana looked over at Brittany, and Blaine finally connected that look Santana had in her eyes whenever she stared off at her.

_Love._

It made sense.

* * *

Ever since Santana's talk, Blaine couldn't be around Kurt without feeling dizzy. When Kurt was around, he quickly developed tunnel-vision.

And Kurt was always around.

"You are acting strange," Kurt said in a sing-song voice.

Blaine, who was leaning against the island in the Hummel's kitchen with his face buried in his hands, picked up his head.

"What are you talking about?" he said softly.

Kurt turned his back to the saucer, reaching sideways to grab a jar off the spice rack, while still managing to glance at Blaine.

"You're all quiet and have looked like you've been in pain since Glee Club today. I don't get it. What's changed?"

Blaine's stomach twisted. Gulping a mouthful of air, he answered, "Nothing. I just have a lot on my mind."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "Do tell."

Before Blaine could answer, Kurt added a handful of spices to his pan. Somehow, while twisting his body, Kurt weaved the scarf he had loosely around his neck around the pan handle. It didn't even take a second for the cloth to hit the burner and ignite.

A quick, orange flame rose in front of Kurt.

Blaine wasn't sure who screamed louder.

* * *

**Teaser for Next Chapter: **

"This is where I met you. Just like this." Blaine felt himself soften. "I was crying and you were here, telling me you didn't live far and weren't cold in November – you didn't make much sense then – but I was tired and sad...and thought you wanted to steal my tree house."

Blaine laughed once, leaning forward slightly. "Really?"

Kurt bit on his lips as he smiled and nodded. They sat in silence for a while, watching the sun ebb in and out of the leaves on the tree's branches above.


	10. The Fall

**From Last Chapter: **Blaine's feelings for Kurt are changing. Also, Kurt almost catches on fire.

Ten.

The Fall

Kurt stepped carefully around the little garden in the backyard, checking on the tomatoes, pulling out weeds, and sprinkling water on everything. Blaine sat with his back against the large tree in the corner, staring after Kurt.

"What?" Kurt questioned, his back still to Blaine. He must have felt the staring.

"Nothing," Blaine replied. "Just admiring your handy work."

Kurt gave Blaine a hard look before leaning into the plants again.

"You've been acting strange since the fire," Kurt said abruptly.

"There shouldn't have been a fire."

Kurt groaned. "It couldn't have been prevented, Blaine."

"I could have prevented it," Blaine muttered, mostly to his knees.

There was a grunt, water splashing, and heavy footsteps before Blaine looked up as Kurt's annoyed face stared down at him.

"Yesterday, my scarf caught fire, we screamed a little, and I tossed it into the sink, drenching it with water. No more fire."

"I'm just disappointed in myself."

Kurt knelt in front of Blaine. "Hey, look at me. You don't have to be disappointed. You're a wonderful angel, Blaine." Blaine shook his head, disagreeing. "Yes, you are. Stop that."

"No, Kurt, I know I'm an awful angel because a) you shouldn't be able to see me, but b) you can, so c) I should have been able to use that fact to save you, which d) I didn't."

"But I'm quick on my feet, Blaine, which is something you taught me."

"I should just...go," Blaine said bitterly to the grass.

Kurt rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. "One thing goes wrong and you just want to run away? I thought we were friends, Blaine."

"We shouldn't be friends."

"Seriously? You're going back to that? We've been through so much together and you're willing to throw that all away because of a small kitchen fire?"

"I think it'd just be safer if I wasn't here to distract you," Blaine said honestly, getting up as well.

It took Kurt less than a second to go from angry to sad. Blaine pursed his lips to hide the fact that he was also upset by his spectrum of choices.

"I can't force you to stay, Blaine. I just wish you wanted to. You're more than just my angel, and I don't think you realize that."

Hugging the watering canister, Kurt turned to walk into the back door of his house. Blaine stared off after him, guilt pooling in his stomach.

"Kurt, wait," Blaine said after a second of hesitation. Kurt paused, peeking over his shoulder. "I just want what's best for you."

Kurt nodded. "Well, I want you to not be so scared all the time."

Blaine nodded as well. "I can try."

Suddenly, an idea bloomed inside of Blaine's head. With a smile, he took hold of Kurt's hand.

Looking at him inquisitively, Kurt followed. "Um?"

"When's the last time you were in your tree house?" Blaine questioned with a smirk.

"Years ago."

"Okay, well, we're going up there now, like old times."

He laid out his hands before the tree, like was was introducing a performance and was about to say _ta-da!_ Kurt took his cue and started climbing the once-high branches.

"If you're sudden daredevil nature gets me killed-"

"Now who's a worry-wart?" Blaine teased, already in the tree house.

Staring up at him, Kurt gawked, pausing. With a huff of breath, Kurt rustled his way up the tree. Offering a hand, Blaine pulled Kurt through the small hole.

Kurt laughed softly, taking in all the old memories he left up in this little box of wood hidden away in the sky. That's really all it is.

"This was my favorite place when I was little," Kurt confessed, tracing his fingers along pictures lining the walls. They were faded and curling at the edges but nonetheless stayed put after a decade.

Despite making the decision of coming up here, despite pretending to not be scared, Blaine only heard the little creaks and cracks coming from the wood as Kurt paced back and forth across the tree house floor. He was literally biting his tongue, preventing himself from saying anything.

Kurt flopped down, curling his legs up against his chest.

"Sit right there." Kurt pointed to the spot directly in front of him.

Hesitantly, Blaine sat, staring at Kurt questioningly. Kurt smiled and answered, "This is where I met you. Just like this." Blaine felt himself soften. "I was crying and you were here, telling me you didn't live far and weren't cold in November – you didn't make much sense then – but I was tired and sad...and I thought you wanted to steal my tree house."

Blaine laughed, leaning forward slightly. "Really?"

Kurt bit on his lips as he smiled and nodded. They sat in silence for a while, watching the sun ebb in and out of the leaves on the tree's branches above.

"How'd you get your wings, Blaine?" Kurt said suddenly, staring at Blaine with soft eyes. "When was the moment you _connected_ with me, huh? ...My fourth question."

Blaine crawled towards Kurt, seating himself beside him, their shoulders touching. This was something Blaine was too scared to do when they were eight.

"One more question left," Blaine teased, which Kurt simply nodded to, then he paused to think about his answer. "It was the day my caring for you overtook my own fears: the day of your mother's funeral." Kurt's eyebrows shot up and he tipped his head to the side, signaling for Blaine to continue. "I just...I wanted to stop feeling so bad for you, and I just though that maybe, if I was actually _there_, you'd be better."

"I am better," Kurt said, his voice barely a whisper.

Blaine's breath got caught in his throat because he suddenly realized how close Kurt's face was to his.

"Good," Blaine muttered, rising to his feet. "That's all I ever wanted for you."

Blaine didn't even hear Kurt follow, but he was immediately next to him – their hands touching the slightest bit.

"Is that all?" Kurt asked.

"Yes," Blaine said softly, unable to look at Kurt, "to be happy, and, well, and...loved."

"Blaine," Kurt breathed.

And it was silent again. Blaine only heard the sounds of his own heart beating in his ears and the slight cracking of tree branches.

"Blaine," Kurt repeated, actually grabbing his hand.

When Blaine turned, first he saw Kurt's face – beautiful, pleading – then he saw the sun, which was deciding to fade. It wasn't the sun's fault at all, really. The branches of the tree shook. Suddenly, the tree started collapsing against the wood of the tree house.

"KURT!" Blaine shouted, pulling Kurt into his arms and pushing towards the window.

"WHAT'S HAPPENING?" Kurt screamed, holding on tight to Blaine.

Before Blaine could answer, the tree started to creak, the dying leaves shaking in all directions. Jumping through the window, Blaine took off into the sky. There was a loud gasp coming from Kurt, but all Blaine cared about was getting to the ground safely.

Just when they were airborne, Blaine's wings flapping gracefully, allowing them to soar around the tree as it cracked in half and collapsed into Kurt's yard, a large branch came swinging at the pair. It passed right through Blaine, but nonetheless sent him whirling. Even though Blaine wasn't hurt, the tree knocked the wind out of him. They plummeted to the ground. Kurt whimpered expecting to feel pain, but Blaine materialized and let the full force of the fall crash through him.

He groaned and immediately turned himself invisible to everyone and everything expect Kurt, so the pain subsided quickly. The pair breathed hard. Leaves fluttered around their heads. Blaine looked up to see the tree leaning against Kurt's house. It didn't seem to have done damage, only to itself, really.

"Blaine, you saved my life," Kurt whispered, out of breath, pulling the attention back to him. Blaine's wings wrapped protectively around Kurt's body, and his arms were still linked around Kurt's torso.

Blaine was going to say something matter-of-factually, like _it's my job _or _it wouldn't have happened if I didn't bring you up there_, but he just stared down at Kurt who wasn't even looking into his eyes; Kurt was staring at Blaine's lips. He went instantly numb.

So, what he said wasn't something he stewed on a lot in that moment, although he thought about it far too regularly.

"I can't fall in love." He sounded frightened, his voice shaking.

Kurt's eyes immediately shot up to his. Blaine could feel both of their hearts pumping against each other, and he kept losing his breath with every intake.

"Too late for me," Kurt whispered back.

And Blaine did something so stupid. Though, it wasn't. It wasn't stupid at all.

Leaning down, Blaine brushed his lips against Kurt's. He'd seen people do this before (damn, he'd seen Kurt do this before); it was to show affection, apparently. Blaine never really understood the appeal.

But Kurt was all around him, moving his lips up, kissing Blaine harder, pulling him in. He was taking every last bit of this moment that Blaine was willing to give. Kurt probably knew that Blaine would come to his senses soon.

Blaine fumbled through the kiss, not really knowing how to move his lips or what to do with the rest of himself, but he knew he never wanted to stop.

"Blaine," Kurt breathed against his mouth, tugging at Blaine's wings.

That was the trigger; he was Kurt's angel. He was kissing Kurt. He wasn't _supposed to be_ kissing Kurt.

Gasping, Blaine pulled away, hovering over Kurt, fear and shock filling his whole body.

"No, Blaine, don't-" Kurt pleaded, reaching forward, but it was too late.

Blaine turned invisible.

It broke his heart as he watched Kurt whimper, holding back a sob, pulling back his empty hand.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt."

**Teaser for Next Chapter:**

It all started with a text: **Come to Lima Memorial Hospital. There was an accident.**

The entire Glee club got the text at the same time. The room was engulfed in a sudden hush as everyone glanced from their phones to their classmates. Every mouth was gaping open.


	11. The Saved

**From Last Chapter: **Blaine and Kurt kiss.

Eleven.

The Saved

It all started with a text: **Come to Lima Memorial Hospital. There was an accident.**

The entire Glee club got the text at the same time. The room fell into a sudden hush as everyone glanced from their phones to their classmates.

Rachel was the first to speak: "The only people who aren't here are Quinn and Brittany."

"Quinn was the one who sent the mass-text," Artie added.

"Alright, come on everyone," Mr. Schuester said, swinging his arms, motioning towards the door. "We'll pile into whoever has a car handy."

So five minutes later, Kurt was crammed in the backseat of Finn's truck with Rachel on his lap and Mercedes and Tina to his left. Nobody dared to talk. The only sound was the soft hum of the radio; the tune sounded familiar, and Kurt desperately tried to distinguish it as a way to get his mind off the current situation.

_'You gave me strength, gave me hope for a lifetime,'_the radio sang. Kurt repeated the lyrics in his head, trying to remember the song, as he gazed out the window.

For a second, he drifted so far into his thoughts that he started thinking absurd things, like of the seven people in the car, whose angels were cramming, in Blaine's words, into "the metal contraption."

_Stop! It doesn't matter_, he thought, shaking his head slightly. Rachel stared down at him, considering his actions then gazed out the back window. _Blaine's been gone for a week. Who knows if he's even here anymore?_

Kurt pushed away the feeling of ache which was slowly creeping towards his heart just as the lyrics chimed, '_This time won't you save me? Baby, I can feel myself giving up.'_

Kurt clung tighter to Rachel as they turned into the hospital. Despair washed over him at the sight of the building. He hated hospitals, especially this one.

Having a crowd of teenagers rush into Lima Memorial set a lot of the workers off. Their cried of exasperation were drowned out by the Glee clubs' cries of "Brittany S. Pierce!"

Kurt knew they were on the right floor as soon at he saw the Cheerio uniforms. In the last room, four of five petite girls poked their heads into the room. When they heard the stomping of feet, a few Cheerios peeked out to look down the hall. When the saw the Glee club approaching, the girls scowled, narrowing their eyes.

Suddenly, Quinn's voice rang down the hall.

"Coach, I told you this wasn't safe – Nationals trophy or not," she said, her voice strained.

"I blame it on the _completely incompetent _Janitor Joe, who put the net to catch Brittany exactly _three feet _left of her landing. Someone who cannot follow _simple_ directions should not be employed at this school!" Sue Sylvester retorted. "Speaking of a waste of school funds...William!"

"What happened, Sue?" Schuester asked, weaving passed the Cheerios towards Brittany's bedside. The Glee clubbers followed. (The Cheerios parted like the Red Sea, not wanting to be touched.)

"Brittany may have landed short of the net when we shot her out of the Cheerio cannon on our first practice run," Sue said nonchalantly.

"Sue, how could you be so careless?" Schuester gasped. "Do you not care at all about the student's wellbeing? Poor Brittany."

Kurt could only see Brittany's hand, which rested lifelessly off the edge of her bed.

"I will not be criticized for the way I handle my champions! Yes, Brittany may have gotten scratched-"

"Scratched?" Quinn yelped.

"-but every one of these girls knew the risks they were taking when signing away their lives to the Cheerios."

"I don't think any of them realized you meant literally!" Schuester yelled.

"It was in the _extenuating circumstances_," Sue said simply. "Let's go girls. We missed twenty minutes of practice; you aren't getting off that easily."

The Cheerios dispensed from the hospital room – all except Quinn.

"Q, I'll see you tomorrow," Sue said quietly as she walked passed. "Make sure Brittany makes it out alright."

Quinn nodded and Sue literally pushed her way out into the hallway. With far less people, Kurt and the rest of the Glee club saw how badly Brittany was actually hurt. Sue calling it a scratch was the hugest understatement of the century.

There was a collection of groans and gasps as they took in the huge white cast wrapping across Brittany's right shoulder, down her arm and circling her torso. Her Cheerios uniform sat beside the bed, ripped and dirty. Under her hospital gown, Brittany's skin was cut up all the way down to mid-calf, like a giant skid mark. Her face was bruised and swollen, but she still looked like sweet, innocent Brittany. Sweet, innocent Brittany who got talked into shooting herself out of a cannon for the sake of a cheerleading routine.

"Is she going to be okay?" Kurt asked Quinn, who was grasping Brittany's hand. Glancing over, Kurt realized Brittany's other hand was cupped as well, as if someone was holding onto it, too. Santana? Kurt pursed his lips and cast his eyes away.

"She has a nasty concussion," Quinn informed, "and she hasn't woken up yet."

"But she's going to be okay?" Kurt pushed on, glancing in the direction of Santana supposed whereabouts.

"I hope."

* * *

Kurt waited until visiting hours were nearly over to see Brittany again. The nurses at the front desk didn't seem too surprised that she had yet another visitor. When Kurt asked if Brittany was any better, they regrettably shook their heads no.

He walked into her empty room, sat on her bed, and reached for her hand. He stayed quiet, just grasping her hand, rubbing little circles along her fingers.

"Sue got in a lot of trouble for this, Britt," Kurt finally said. "She kept blaming Janitor Joe, but Figgins wasn't having it. She got suspended." Kurt paused, part of him legitimately waiting for a response. "I wish you'd wake up, so I could actually tell you this good news. You're really scaring us, Brittany."

Kurt sighed, reaching forward to touch the not swollen portion of her face.

"I knew if you were okay, I would have heard about it by now. So, I'm mostly here for Santana," Kurt said honestly. In his head, he could almost see Santana's attention get caught, her gaze flinging on him. "Blaine told me she's his best friend." Santana must be smiling warmly at Blaine – a brief smile. "And she loves you, Britt. Everyone needs saving – even angels. So, Blaine, if you're here," Kurt's voice cracked, "I'll stay until the end of visiting hours. Just be here for Santana, the way Brittany can't."

Kurt felt a ghost of a touch trail softly down his back. Even though Blaine didn't appear, Kurt knew he was there. Kurt hid a smile while leaning towards Brittany, taking her hand. For the next ten minutes, he talked to Brittany about how the Glee club was handling the accident and what everyone was saying online. Behind Brittany's back, everyone loved her and wished her well.

"If you want to stay asleep longer, I'm sure you'll get some fancy assorted baskets. Maybe that's what this is actually about," Kurt joked.

He looked at the clock. 10:57. Sighing, he said, "I'll be back after school tomorrow – whether you're better or not. Please, be better though."

Kurt moved forward, bending down to kiss Brittany's forehead. As soon as his lips touched her skin, the beeping of her heart monitor started to jump. Pulling away quickly, Kurt stared at the machine. Her heart pumped quickly then immediately started to slow down. Dumbfounded, Kurt went numb.

Suddenly, a voice screamed, "HELP! BRITTANY PIERCE! SOMETHING'S HAPPENING! HER HEART! HELP!"

Kurt's mouth fell opened as a girl rushed passed him, out of nowhere – tan skin, a white dress, long black hair. She ran into the hallway, yelling. Her voice was then muffled by the sound of loud beeping coming from Brittany's entire room. The girl came rushing back in with nurses in her wake.

"BRITT-BRITT, PLEASE!" she cried hysterically.

"I need both of you to leave the room," a nurse said sternly over her shoulder. It took Kurt a second to realize she was talking to him. Moving automatically, Kurt grabbed the crying girl, dragging her out of the room.

"NO! KURT! I NEED- I NEED TO BE WITH HER."

"Not right now. They need space. They'll help her," Kurt said desperately, pulling her down the hall.

She cried, hard. Her whole body was shaking. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, Kurt hushed her, soothingly.

"Santana?" he whispered into her ear. She nodded. "How?"

Santana looked up at him ready to say something, or maybe she did, but Kurt didn't hear it. Surprising herself, Santana tried to speak again. Nothing came out. And even though Kurt had been holding onto a solid person, his arms abruptly slipped through her.

"What's happening?" he asked her. She was _right there_, but she wasn't.

Wide-eyed, Santana stared at her own arms as they started to disappear. Gasping, muted, Santana looked up at Kurt.

She mouthed one thing, "Save Brittany."

And then she was gone.

* * *

As soon as Kurt got into his car, he was calling, "Blaine! Blaine, please! I can't do this by myself! Blaine!"

"Shhhh."

Kurt didn't realize he was crying until arms wrapped around him and he started shamelessly sobbing.

"B-Blaine, what happened? Wh- oh my God!" Kurt cried, holding Blaine close. "One minute, she was fine..then the next..."

Blaine ran his hands up and down Kurt's back as Kurt gripped tightly to Blaine's shoulders.

"And Santana. What happened to her?" Kurt asked into the crook of Blaine's neck.

"I don- She's gone," Blaine said sadly.

Pulling away, Kurt looked into Blaine's face. Despite the fact that the only light illuminating each other was a flickering street-light, Kurt saw the sadness from Blaine's words in Blaine's eyes.

"Gone? Like really gone?" Kurt said, hollow.

"When she disappeared to you, she disappeared to me too," Blaine confirmed.

"Does that mean Brittany's... Is Brittany...?"

"Brittany's in surgery, but I heard the doctor's talking. They said if Santana had called for them even a minute later, Brittany would have been dead."

Pulling away completely, Kurt hugged himself, suddenly feeling cold.

"She saved her," Kurt mumbled.

"She loved her. I don't think it has anything to do with Santana being Brittany's angel. I was on the other side; Santana didn't even think twice before she did what she did."

"And now she's gone," Kurt said sadly.

"And now she's gone," Blaine repeated. Kurt wanted to ignore it, but he heard the tone nonetheless. Scared.

* * *

**Teaser for Next Chapter:**

"What?"

"Your wings. I need to see your wings."

Blaine stared at Kurt for a second. When Kurt jerked his head, wordlessly saying, _I'm not joking,_Blaine squared his shoulders and extended his wings into what little space there was to spare in the closet.

Kurt gasped.


	12. The Kiss

******From Last Chapter: **Brittany gets into an accident, leaving her in a coma. When she starts to hemorrhage, Santana shows herself to Kurt and saves Brittany. Then she disappears – even to Blaine.

Twelve.

The Kiss

"She almost died!"

"Rumor has it her hemorrhage should have left her brain dead."

"I can't believe Sue did that in the first place."

"She is so lucky."

That was all Kurt heard walking down the hallway. He restrained himself from rolling his eyes in Blaine's direction. Brittany wasn't even home yet, but word had a tendency to spread fast. Reaching into his pocket for his phone, Kurt immediately started talking when he pressed it to his ear.

"I'm going to have to visit her again," Kurt said, stopping at his locker.

"That'd be good. I want to see if Santana's back yet," Blaine replied, leaning on Kurt's neighboring locker.

"So you think she's coming back then?" Kurt asked.

AS Blaine was about to answer, Kurt's phone got ripped out of his hands. Glancing up, the two saw Karofsky stomping by, holding the phone in his palm.

"I see you're talking to no one again," he scoffed, walking away and then dropping the phone into the trash can.

He didn't even look back at Kurt; that was what set him off. Balling his hands into tight fists, Kurt went chasing after the bully. Karofsky was pushing intothe locker room as Kurt caught up. He was opening his gym locker when Kurt busted through the doors. Surprised, Karofsky's head shot up. When he saw it was Kurt, he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?" Kurt screamed.

"Calm down, Kurt," Blaine cautioned, reaching out but not touching him.

"Did your feelings get hurt?" Karofsky asked mockingly.

"Do you not have any tact at all?" Kurt demanded, marching towards Dave. "Were you born a barbarian?"

"Don't push me, Hummel! Lady-boys like you don't get to talk back without meeting my fists first."

"Is that so? Because I think you're all talk," Kurt said, getting right up in Karofsky's face. His heart was pounding, hoping he was calling the right bluff and that we wasn't about to get the crap kicked out of himself.

"His angel said he doesn't agree," Blaine interjected, tense.

Kurt glanced at Blaine for a second; he looked worried.

"No, you know what? I'm sick of you prancing around this school like you own it, Hummel! We already have a prom queen; we don't need a princess, too."

"You can say whatever you want, Dave, but it's not going to cover the fact that you're just a sad, scared little boy, and I apparently threaten you," Kurt spat.

"Threaten me?" Karofsky laughed. His fist met the locker, hard. The bang echoed across the locker room and made Kurt jump. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"If you're going to hit me, then hit me!"

"Kurt," Blaine whispered.

"Because I'm not scared of you. One day, I'll be out of this cow town, and you'll be stuck here: thirty, single, wondering why you didn't make anything of your life!"

"Hummel-" Karofsky warned, his face rising in color.

"And you'll be a distant memory to me: the high school bully, whose best days consisted of kicking the crap out of people he didn't think were good enough for his standards. Well, you're the one who's ordinary, Karofsky."

Kurt didn't even have a second to breath before Karofsky was lunging towards him. He shut his eyes, expecting the worst. Arms tightened around his shoulders, heavy and big. Then suddenly, there was a mouth forcing itself against his own. Kurt tried to gasp, but the lips were too strong. Opening his eyes, he saw it was Dave, and his skin crawled.

Kurt pushed as hard as he could, but the boy didn't budge. Suddenly, Dave went flying backwards. He tumbled over the bench and onto the floor. Someone grabbed Kurt's hand and then he was being pulled out of the locker room, not even getting an opportunity to look back at Karofsky, and then he was pulled into an empty supply closet. The naked bulb above his head flickered on and he saw Blaine looking worried.

"Blaine-" Kurt choked.

"Kurt, are you okay?" Blaine gasped, reaching up to cup Kurt's face.

He nodded, quickly, then grabbed at Blaine's arms.

"You keep touching things. How do you keep touching things?" Kurt breathed out, his heart hammering through his chest.

"Kurt, it doesn't matter. Did he hurt you? Are you okay?"

"I- ___Blaine__!_"

"I almost took his head off for touching you like that!" Blaine hissed. He looked like he was about to start punching the concrete wall.

"Was that you who pushed him?" Kurt gasped. "I mean, of course it was you. I didn't do it."

"If he comes near you again, Kurt, I swear-"

"_You will do ____nothing__!_" Kurt stressed.

"Wha- did you miss what he did to you? He hate-kissed you! Now it makes sense why he's been treating you like you're the dirt under his shoe for all these years!"

"Because I'm gay?"

"Not just that; because you're confident being who you are, whereas he's just scared all the time," Blaine explained but then he shook his head. "But that gives him no right to touch you like that!"

"You touched him, Blaine. How did that happen? Are you going to disappear like Santana?" Kurt choked out, fear stewing through his body.

"No, I'm fine," Blaine said dismissively.

"No, you are not! Let me see your wings."

"What?"

"Your wings. I need to see your wings."

Blaine stared at Kurt for a second. When Kurt jerked his head, wordlessly saying, ___I'm not joking,_Blaine squared his shoulders and extended his wings into what little space there was to spare in the closet.

Kurt gasped.

"What?" Blaine questioned, looking over his shoulders.

His whole body slumped forward as he gasped. Behind him were a familiar set of wings, but all the white had been taken over with dark brown.

"It doesn't matter," Blaine said immediately, turning his head back to Kurt.

"It does so matter! Santana's ___gone_!"

"But I won't be," Blaine vowed.

"Blaine, you don't know what's going to happen to me. You don't know what extremes you'd take to keep me safe."

"I'm your angel," Blaine replied as if the statement would solve any miscommunication.

"I don't care. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want your wings to get any darker. I don't want you to disappear! Can't you see that I care about you just as much as you care about me? If I lost you, Blaine-"

"You won't."

"You don't know that!" Kurt yelled, a broken sob ripping through his chest.

Blaine closed the space between himself and Kurt, holding onto his shoulders tightly. Kurt dropped his head into the crook of Blaine's neck, letting tears soak the fabric of Blaine's shirt.

"I can't lose you, Blaine."

The words stuck in Blaine's head, and then he went rigid.

"Blaine?"

___All around him ____was white. Pure. Clean. Untouched._

___Gasping, Blaine rocked into the soft pillowed wall. Not to____get away or resist though. It was far too late for that._

_"____He's not crazy," a woman sobbed._

___Blaine looked towards the voice, hidden behind a d____oor. Through____the glass, he could see two men and the crying ____woman__._

_"____Mrs. Anderson, he isn't right," the man in the white jacket said simply._

_"____Come now, sweetheart, maybe they can fix him," the other man said, grabbing the woman's shoulder._

_"____He's not broken!"_

Blaine was on the floor, rocking back and forth. Kurt grabbed at him, trying to keep him still.

"Blaine," Kurt cried. "Blaine, please, what's happening?"

___Blaine walked down the hall. He passed a crippled ____w____oman ____sitting in a wheelchair gnawing on her own hair. He stifled a whimper and looked away._

_"____Blaine, who let you out? Get back to the community room. We'll be taking everyone outside in a bit," a lady (a nurse?) behind the front desk said hastily._

_"____It's time for recess, like I'm a seven year old," Blaine said out loud, not to the nurse as much as the hallway itself._

"Blaine, I'm right here. Come back to me. I'm right here!" Kurt chanted, holding Blaine as he rocked.

___Someone was screaming from another room. The nurse and doctor doing Blaine's check up exchanged a glan____ce and____nodded briefly ____to each other._

_"____Blaine, stay put," the doct____or ordered before both ran out, leaving him in an empty exam room. It was just an eleva____ted table and a rolling chair____. ____There were no gadgets, no equipment. As Blaine counted how many seconds it took for the screaming to stop, he noticed a folder tucked under the cloth covering the table._

___Blaine glanced towards the door, then quickly grabbed the folder. Sitting it on his lap, he pulled it open._

**__****Cincinnati Asylum**

**__****1918**

___Patient: Blaine Anderson_

_"____BLAINE!"_

___Jumping, he dropped the folder and all of it's contents onto the floor._

Blaine was screaming. Kurt tangled his fingers in his hair, shushing him.

___There was a hand grasping his. Blaine could feel it, but barely. He could barely feel anything._

_"____How much longer, Doctor?" a woman (his mother?) asked. Everyone ____else ____was standing at the foot of the bed._

_"____I don't think he's going to last the night," the doctor answered._

_"____I heard the Influenza was spreading, but I never thought it'd reach here of all places," a man (his father?) said._

___Suddenly, a crippling pain tugged at Blaine's stomach and he was coughing. Against his white hospital gown, Blaine spluttered red. ____His lungs crumbled in his chest____ as he ached for a breath that didn't come._

_"____I'll see you again," a voice whispered. It was like the end of an echo; Blaine wasn't sure if he heard it at all._

___But it was the last thing he remembered._

Suddenly, Blaine stopped rocked, stopped breathing, just stopped.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered, holding Blaine's face to look into his wet eyes. "I'm right here."

"Ku- Kurt, I-" Blaine was gasping for air, like he was never going to take another breath again. "K- Oh, Kurt. I saw- I think I saw-"

"What? What'd you see?"

Blaine took a long, staggered breath. "My death."

* * *

**Teaser for Next Chapter: **

Brittany smiled sweetly, reaching to place a hand on Kurt's.

"You were the one who saved me," she said finally. "I heard the doctors. If you weren't here, if you didn't notice my heart acting weird, I would have had a brain hemorrhage."

"No," Kurt said slowly. Blaine stopped breathing as soon as Brittany started saying it was Kurt who saved her. Surely, Santana talked to her about this.


	13. The Forgotten

******From Last Chapter: **Blaine's wings have turned brown from too much expose. Also, he has a flash of his death.

Thirteen.

The Forgotten

Blaine had tugged a feather from out of his wings – long, like the same length as his forearm and brown – and was now twirling it in his hands absentmindedly.

"I was in a mental institution," Blaine said blankly. "I was crazy in another life, and I died from the Influenza."

"Well, you know you died. It shouldn't come as too much of a surprise," Kurt said, drowning his hair in hairspray.

"I was so young," he mumbled, placing the feather on Kurt's bedside table.

"How old did you look?" Kurt asked, looking at Blaine through the mirror as Blaine walked towards him.

"As old as we are now."

"Well," Kurt started, turning, "didn't you say your mother was telling the doctor you weren't crazy?" Blaine nodded. "Maybe you aren't...weren't."

"I was there long enough to die there," Blaine said, disgruntled.

Kurt placed his hand on Blaine's shoulder, squeezing softly. It was supposed to be encouraging, but Blaine's stomach only plummeted more.

"You can't let yourself dwell on your death, Blaine. It was a lifetime ago – literally."

Sighing, he said, "I know, I just thought I'd lived a full, exciting life. Not the life of a bound, crazy person. It's just...disappointing."

"In your next life then, you can be a skydiver and invent the cure for the common cold, but for this lifetime, let's go visit Brittany."

* * *

Brittany still wasn't out of the hospital, but she was awake. There never seemed to be an ideal time to visit her and ensure complete privacy. Members of the Cheerios or Glee Club were always camped out in her room. Tonight, however, there was a Titans home game, and everyone would either be playing, cheering, or rooting for friends/boyfriends in the stands. This meant no one would be bothering Brittany.

Kurt fiddled with the flowers he'd picked up on the way to the hospital, a cheap bouquet that had sat in distilled water for days at a time, but they were a nice gesture. Brittany's room was bursting with flowers, cards, and stuffed animals. The flowers overflowed into the hallway, they saw as they approached.

"Brittany!" Kurt exclaimed.

Brittany was sitting on her bed, reading the latest issue of some teen magazine (or rather, skimming through the pictures). She flopped her magazine shut using her good hand and smiled widely at Kurt.

"Kurt! You're here late. Isn't it passed your bedtime?" Brittany asked, accepting a tentative hug and the flowers.

"Bedtimes are only for weekdays," Kurt joked, sitting cautiously at Brittany's feet.

"Oh, it's the weekend? I never really learned how to read a calender," she said, quite chipper given the state of things.

"How are you feeling? Are you coming back to school soon?"

"The doctors said they'll let me know Monday, so that's in three or four days. I'm missing so much schoolwork though; they keep sending it home for me. See that mountain?" Brittany pointed to a chair a few feet from her bed, piled with books and loose paper. "They expect me to do all of that by myself. I think they're the ones who need brain surgery." Brittany tapped at her forehead.

Blaine knew something was out of the ordinary. Brittany was wearing a hat – small, knitted, gray which covered a fraction of her head what was wrapped in bandages.

"You should see my scar, Kurt," Brittany continued happily. "I have this huge bold spot, sort of like my dad, and there's this gross scar. It's shaped nothing like Harry's."

"Your hair will grow right over that, and you won't ever have to look at it again," Kurt assured.

"Right, everything will heal up real nicely, the doctors say. They can't cure my cat's syphilis though; I don't understand, but they can fix humans up real nicely."

"You might want to take him to a vet for that, Britt."

"Last time we did that, he mauled her face, and the vet before that. There's no one in Lima who wants to see Lord Tubbington. It's okay though. He was here today to see me. I had my parents sneak him in, but he still got out and into the kitchen. Silly cat."

Kurt laughed. "Did he escape?"

"Of course. He leaves the house for long periods of time, so I think he's either a drug dealer or working for the CIA. Either way, he's tricky," Brittany said seriously, narrowing her eyes for effect. "Kurt, thanks for coming to visit me. I wanted to see you especially."

"Why's that?" he asked, sounding completely taken aback.

Brittany smiled sweetly, reaching to place a hand on Kurt's.

"You were the one who saved me," she said finally. "I heard the doctors. If you weren't here, if you didn't notice my heart acting weird, I would have had a brain hemorrhage."

"No," Kurt said slowly. Blaine stopped breathing as soon as Brittany started saying it was Kurt who saved her. Surely, Santana talked to her about this.

"Yes!" Brittany chimed.

"I was here, but I didn't save you." Brittany took a second to study him, probably wondering why he wasn't taking credit for such a noble feat. "It was Santana. Santana was the one who called for the doctors. She was the one who noticed your abnormally beating heart. It wasn't me."

Brittany just stared. After a moment, she considered her words and asked, serious and confused, "Who's Santana?"

"No," Blaine gasped, drawing himself closer to Kurt.

"She's not here?" Kurt questioned, looking from Blaine to Brittany.

For the first time since being in the hospital, Blaine searched for the other angel.

"Santana!" he finally called. "Santana, can you please just come on? This isn't funny!"

"Blaine..." Kurt mumbled, touching his hand.

"Blaine?" Brittany questioned. "Who's that?"

"SANTANA! Santana Lopez! San- Sa..."Blaine broke off, his voice cracking.

"Santana's not here?" Kurt asked Blaine.

Brittany answered. "I'm pretty sure it's only you and me, Kurt. I don't know anyone named Santana. It's a pretty weird name, so I'd remember it."

"You _should_ remember her!" Blaine yelled, getting into Brittany's face. Brittany didn't budge, however. Kurt pushed at Blaine slightly, trying to back him up. "She's been here your whole life! SHE SAVED YOUR LIFE!"

"Shh," Kurt whispered.

"I'm not talking," Brittany whispered back.

"I- I know. I mean, you seriously never met Santana? She's pretty, Latina, wears a lot of white?" Kurt questioned as calmly as possible, though from his face, it seemed like he was hiding a lot of other emotions.

Brittany thought for a second. It was taking her far too long to think. Blaine knew, when she didn't answer immediately, that Brittany had forgotten her angel.

"She doesn't remember," Blaine said before Brittany could.

"Doesn't ring a bell."

Kurt sighed. Blaine however was having a hard time hiding how he was feeling. He kept pacing around the room, mumbling, "She doesn't remember."

"Well, I think I'm going to head out – maybe go to the home game. Want me to send your love?" Kurt said, standing up.

"Yes, please," Brittany said, smiling.

"Night."

"Good night, Kurt," she said, waving. "Oh, and Kurt, I hope you find Santana."

Kurt smiled. "Yeah, me too. See you, Britt."

* * *

It was at least ten minutes before Kurt even touched his car keys, let alone fit them into the ignition. The two just sat in Kurt's car in the dark parking-lot, not saying anything.

"So, where is she?" Kurt asked finally.

"I don't know," Blaine snapped.

He noticed Kurt's body jerk, like he'd just been hit. After a deep, calming breath, Blaine apologized.

"I'm just as scared as you are," Kurt muttered, gripping the steering wheel.

"Are you? Kurt, you don't understand what Santana being gone could mean," Blaine groaned, massaging his temples roughly. "If Brittany doesn't have an angel, she's not safe. And that's just her. Where's Santana? Is she dead? What'd she die from? Too much exposure? Letting a human see her? All things that are a possibility for me! I'm going to end up just like her. And you're going to end up just like me...dead."

"That's not true, Blaine!" Kurt said. He placed a hand on Blaine's back, but Blaine jumped away, like it was burning. "They were careless."

"So are we," he said grimly.

"No, we ar-"

"Kurt, don't you see how stupid we've been?" Blaine shouted, and as soon as the quiet set in, he felt a surge of guilt race through him. Softly, he continued, "Eventually, my wings will be black because we're selfish and can't stay apart, and then one day something might happen to you, something that will force me to safe your life, ending my own. And what if that's why angels are here? What if I'm supposed to give my life up to save yours? I mean, of the two of us, you're the most important, right? _You _haven't been watching _me_ all these years."

"So what, I'm just supposed to forget about you and you're supposed to disappear?" Kurt asked, his voice brittle.

"Maybe? Who knows anymore? All we know is that Brittany doesn't remember Santana."

"I'll never forget you," Kurt stated firmly, tears in his eyes.

"You can't say that. We can't say things like that anymore. It doesn't matter what we feel or think we feel because in a second they could all be gone. So why even bother?"

Blaine felt like he was choking. There was a lump in his throat the size of a watermelon, and every word he spoke felt like it could be cut off abruptly.

"So, what does this all mean? What's supposed to happen now?" Kurt asked.

"We have to stop what should have never started. It's not fair to you, Kurt. You shouldn't have to hide me like I'm your dirtiest, most private secret. I should have never shown myself to you. This entire thing is my fault. You could have a normal life right now, but instead, you're sitting in your car, talking to yourself. Or that's what people would see, isn't it?"

"Maybe you showed yourself first, _maybe_, but I called for you – sometimes everyday. So you need to quit blaming yourself. You have to stop being the bigger person, Blaine. And you're wrong. Of the two of us, I am nowhere near the most important. What if we're stuck together to save each other? There is so much wrong with everything you've been saying, starting first with saying we've been wrong."

"Kurt, this is crazy," Blaine said, staring into Kurt's eyes, his heart beating wildly in his chest. "We can't do this anymore."

"Okay, well then, what would happen if we stopped? My life would go on, right? I'd get out of high school, go to college, get a job. Have an ordinary life."

"I'd be a passive bystander, like always," Blaine concluded.

"And that wouldn't kill you?" Kurt probed. Blaine shook his head, no. "What about once I fell in love? Could you watch that? Me make a life with someone who isn't you?"

"Kurt..."

"Because I know that if you left, all I'd be thinking about is how badly you'd be hurting. You'd never let me see you though because you're stubborn; you'd just wait for the day to save my life – to fulfill your _duty_. But I'd never be happy. And you'd never be happy."

"I can't fall in love, Kurt," Blaine said sternly.

Kurt groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. "You keep saying that, but you can."

There was so much frustration in the way Kurt leaned forward, covering Blaine's mouth with his own. He dug his fingers into Blaine's hair, sucking at Blaine's bottom lip, pulling him in closer. It took Blaine a second to get over the initial shock of being kissed with to much fervor and intent and to just kiss back. In response to Blaine, Kurt huffed a sigh against his mouth and wrapped both arms around Blaine's shoulders.

When Blaine finally began to think straight, he pushed Kurt away. The other boy didn't look offended, however. It looked like he expected Blaine's reaction.

"You're in love with me," Kurt sighed after both caught their breath. The frustration was back and tears brimmed his eyes. Blaine knew it wasn't formed into a question, but he marked the words as Kurt's fifth and final one. "Don't go."

There was a beat, a second for Blaine to just draw back, but it was too late and the words that barely formed in his head were already spilling out of his mouth.

"Of course I'm in love with you, and of course leaving you would absolutely kill me."

Hearing Blaine say those words, finally, made Kurt reach forward. With their foreheads pressed together, Kurt said, "It'd kill me too, and if you're supposed to save my life, then don't go. Just...please save me?"

And for a second, Blaine thought of this life: staying with Kurt. He could keep him safe. He could be happy, letting Kurt be happy. And maybe everything that happened to Santana and Brittany wouldn't happen to them.

"I need to get away. I need to think. I can't think straight with you around, and you're always around," Blaine babbled, kneeling against the seat, the top of his head passing through the car roof.

"Where are you going to go? Can you even leave?"

"I can try."

And with one last look at Kurt, Blaine stood and left the car. As he walked away, he could see Kurt saying something – calling something after him, probably, but he couldn't make out the words. Blaine walked parallel to the stone fence, towards to entrance of the parking-lot.

Suddenly, there's a pull in his gut. It was light, not so forceful, but it was evident. Blaine walked on. At this point, feeling this pull would make him rush to Kurt's side; next to him, the force would instantly die.

As he passed the gated entrance, the pull became harsher, more stabbing than annoying. It felt like there was a wire roped around his middle, tugging forcefully, consistently. Blaine trudged forward.

It took ten or so more feet for the feeling to switch from pull to ache, and then it was ten more feet after that to turn the ache into pain. It got worse with every step, and in his head, Blaine though that if he ever looked back in Kurt's direction, the pain would lessen.

One more step.

And Blaine collapsed.

He didn't know what part of himself to grasp; everything hurt. It was like he was on fire, and he would have checked to see if it was true, but even moving his eyes caused him pain.

Immobile, unable to even call someone for help, Blaine was stuck.

After ten or so minutes of excruciating pain, Blaine decided he'd never feel this way again – even if that meant never leaving Kurt's side.

The pain subsided completely.

When Blaine opened his eyes, he expected to see Kurt.

Instead, he saw white - pure, clean, and untouched.

* * *

**Teaser for Next Chapter:**

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, "if you're here, I mean, I hope you are, or I'm talking to myself." He chuckled once. "If you're here, I just- I'm sorry for being so...forceful. I just...love you. I think that should be enough for you to stay."


	14. The Mess

******From Last Chapter:** Santana's still gone, and the boys find out that Brittany doesn't even remember her. This scares Blaine and he tells Kurt he has to think about whether or not it'd be smart to stop showing himself. But they admit they love each other, which makes everything harder. Blaine leaves and soon his bond to Kurt is in jeopardy.

Fourteen.

The Mess

Kurt kept calling Blaine's name. He did it even after Blaine walked out of the parking-lot, getting out of his car to call the one syllable word into the night. Eventually his throat got too dry and his voice started to crack, so he sat by the driver's door, waiting for Blaine to come back. But after a while Kurt couldn't ignore how late it was getting, and realizing he couldn't do much else, he left.

As he pulled onto the highway, Kurt concluded that this whole situation was so messed up. He also concluded that he'd continue to live in this crazy little world with Blaine, if Blaine came back. He needed Blaine and was realizing how much.

Was Blaine actually gone? Or was he sitting in Kurt's car, nervously tugging his hands, praying that there were no collisions? According to Blaine, he never left Kurt's side – he couldn't. So, was he?

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, "if you're here... If you're here, I just- I'm sorry for being so...forceful. I just...love you. I think that should be enough for you to stay."

Kurt waited, silently for a few miles, barely breathing as he wanted for Blaine's return. He didn't come.

Blinking back tears, he pressed the gas pedal harder. Once he was at the home game, he'd stop thinking about this, and the faster his went, the quicker he'd get there. His exit was up ahead, so he swerved into the other lane.

A loud screech from tires that weren't his own cut through the silence. Kurt felt himself jerk forward. The sound of metal ripped against metal deafeningly. When Kurt looked through his rear-view mirror, white light instantly blinded him.

And that's the last thing he remembered.

* * *

Blaine's eyes began to focus. The white started to fade, and as passed it, he started to make out a figure. It was a woman with long black hair in a tight red dress. Blaine laughed as he approached her because this suited her much better than white.

"Santana?"

Santana jumped. Slowly, she turned her head. Her face lit up instantly, and she ran into Blaine's arms.

"Wait," she choked out, her body suddenly rigid. "You aren't an angel anymore, either?"

Blaine watched as Santana's eyes took him in. Following her gaze, he looked down at himself as well. He was wearing normal human clothes – no white.

"We aren't angels?" Blaine gasped.

Santana shrugged. "I mean, look around. Kurt and Brittany aren't _here_."

Blaine looked over Santana's shoulder. Standing behind her was a 1000 foot, iron structure he'd only ever seen in pictures: the Eiffel Tower. Were they in Paris?

"We're free," Santana whispered, sorrow filling her words.

Blaine followed Santana around the city. Here are the things she knew: they were still invisible; there were no more wings; and although they weren't bound to anyone, Santana could still feel Brittany. ("But that might be a figment of my imagination.")

"So, have you seen her?" Blaine asked, gazing up at the buildings that boxed them into the narrow street.

"Yes. She doesn't remember me," Santana replied, her voice empty. "Do you think I'd be here if she wanted me there? Just the way she looked at me, I knew I was a stranger."

Blaine looked down at his shoes, thinking only one question, but being too afraid to ask it out loud. "Do you think..." he started but trailed off.

"Kurt will remember you?" Santana assumed. Blaine nodded shortly. "Only one way to find out, I guess."

"By going back? How? How did we even get here?"

"Well, when Brittany was five, her family went to Paris on vacation. I remember it so vividly. So, when Britt didn't remember me, I panicked. I needed to be anyplace else. I closed my eyes, and the next time I opened them, I was staring at the Eiffel Tower," Santana explained then looked up at Blaine. "You probably wanted to be with me; it's understandable."

"How do we get to them though? Do we just close our eyes and wish for it? Paris doesn't move. Kurt and Brittany could be anywhere right now."

"I could follow the pull I feel?"

"The one that may or may not be a figment of your imagination?" Blaine retorted.

"Whatever, hobbit. If that doesn't work, we can stalk them at their houses. Not rocket science."

Blaine took one last look at the strangers walking passed him. They were completely unaware of this world that existed right alongside their own, a world Blaine and Santana has been living in their whole lives. Now the ex-angels had an opportunity to never live there again, and they were going back?

"Do it," Blaine said sternly.

Santana dropped her gaze to the ground, taking in a breath. Blaine grabbed for her hand, watching her face grow from concentrated and determined to soft and dreamy.

"They're at the hospital," she whispered. "Shut your eyes and follow me."

Blaine only hesitated for a second before following Santana's instruction, shutting his eyes. The feeling of floating overcame him, like being on the swings at the amusement park Kurt took him to. The memory turned Blaine's stomach. When he opened his eyes again, everything was momentarily fuzzy.

Santana gasped just as Blaine's eyes picked up the hospital room. There were only three people: Brittany, Kurt, and another angel, wings white as snow.

The angel must have heard Blaine and Santana because she turned her head, her expression dropping from pleasant to sorry. Blaine suddenly understood as he caught a glimpse of the scene at her side.

Brittany, in a hospital gown, was sitting in a chair beside a bed. And in the bed was Kurt.

"Blaine," the angel whispered, as Blaine launched himself towards the bed. She grasped his arm, gently. Whirling around, the two came face-to-face.

"I- You-" Blaine spluttered. "You're-" the angel nodded, "-Kurt's mother?"

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. "Hello, Blaine," she said sweetly. "You and my son have gotten yourselves into quite a mess, haven't you?"

"What happened to him?" Blaine gasped, rounding the bed to stand opposite of Brittany, Santana already at her side.

"Car crash – last night," she said, gazing lovingly at her son, who was waking up.

Brittany reached forward, taking Kurt's hand. His eyes looked like they were adjusting.

"Wakey wakey eggs and bacey!" Brittany sang, juggling Kurt's hand between her own.

"Britt?" Kurt murmured, pulling himself up a few inches. "What happened? Where am I?"

"In the hospital. You got into a car accident. It was pretty bad. This is why I don't have my permit."

Kurt looked down at himself, checking for any permanent damage. His leg was wrapped up, probably broken. His arm, on the opposite side of his body, was in a sling. And if Kurt touched his face, he'd be able to feel stitched wounds.

"Last night was such a blur," Kurt said vacantly.

"You were with me," Brittany said, all smiles.

"Tell me what happened?"

Brittany pulled up and sat down on her legs. "We talked about school, Lord Tubbington, and Santana."

"Who's Santana?" Kurt asked immediately, his brow furrowed.

"What?" Blaine blurted, locking eyes with Santana, who frowned.

"You don't know either? Maybe it's an imaginary friend, like I used to have when I was six. You asked about Santana, and then you also mentioned a Blaine," Brittany explained.

Blaine's heart started beating faster.

Kurt cocked his head to the side. "Um, Britt, I don't know those people."

Blaine missed Santana's sympathetic look; he missed Mrs. Hummel's hand across his back because he was staring at Kurt, feeling numb.

"You don't remember asking?" Brittany questioned.

Kurt shook his head. "No."

"I have to go," Blaine muttered suddenly, pulling away from Kurt's mother and pushing passed Santana.

"Blaine, sweetie!" Mrs. Hummel called after Blaine, down the hall. "He took a blow to his head; of course he'd have trouble remembering some things."

"But not me! He promised he'd never forget me!" Blaine cried, whirling around. She stood there, silent. "He promised!"

"Blaine..."

"You're his angel now, aren't you?" he asked through the lump in his throat. Mrs. Hummel casther eyes down. "You were right. Your son and I are in quite the mess, and I don't think there's any way to fix this."

"Blaine, you just have to give Kurt a chance to-"

"I just don't even understand how this happened. I don't understand how I'm not an angel, but you are," Blaine said.

Mrs. Hummel approached. She didn't look the way Blaine remembered her; she looked older, more tired.

"I waited," she said simply. Blaine furrowed his brow, confused. "I mean, I was in an in-between, watching over Kurt, watching over you – invisible – for years. But I knew I couldn't leave, that Burt or Kurt would need me. And you, you're in an in-between, too."

"So, Kurt's still going to need me, even though I'm not his angel anymore?"

"Possibly? You've always had a choice, Blaine."

His eyebrows shot up. "I never had a choice. I could never leave Kurt's side, even if I wanted to!"

"Because of the pull? I can feel it. It's actually somewhat annoying," she laughed. "But you did leave, Blaine, didn't you?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, remembering the pain he felt resisting the pull.

"This whole world is complicated, I've come to realize after years of being stuck watching it. Technically, Blaine, you're free. You can stay an angel or you can go and be a human, if you want – you and Santana."

"How?"

"How do I put this simply?" She paused thoughtfully for a few moments. "Angels are programmed differently than humans. Humans want freedom; angels want security. If you'd tell Kurt he'd be stuck to a person for the rest of his life, not being able to live his own, he'd go insane. But that's what you're used to, huh? When you showed yourself to Kurt, that was your choice even though it was against everything you believed in. Each time you did that, your wings changed colors, right?" Blaine nodded. "Let's use Santana as an example. Her wings slowly changed to black, until one day, she disappeared."

"Yes. Do you know why that happened?" Blaine asked.

"I think so. Santana had been hanging on the edge for a while, Blaine. Showing herself to Kurt and the other humans only knocked her over that edge. She wanted out of the angel world, and eventually, she got out. Also, you pulled away, right? Last night. You wanted to be free as well, and now you are."

"Kurt and Brittany forgetting us in the price we play, isn't it? For freedom."

"It is."

Blaine breathed in deeply, shutting his eyes. "I just need to go now, since I can."

As Blaine turned, he heard Kurt's mother say, "Just don't give up on him, Blaine. I never did."

* * *

**Teaser for Next Chapter:**

"You haven't been forgetting things, have you?" Kurt asked Brittany a night ago, when Brittany sneaked over to his room after visiting hours.

"Yeah, actually!" Brittany said, sounding far too delighted by this news. "It's like there are holes in my head."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, when I'm thinking of a memory, it's only giving me bits and pieces. A lot of my memories don't make sense."

"Like they're missing something," Kurt concluded. Brittany nodded.


	15. The Fix

******Author's Note:** I want to thank Nixie, my beta (thestairwell) because my story would be crappy without her =)

******From Last Chapter:** Blaine and Santana are in an in-between, where they aren't angels anymore and can be human; the only problem is that Brittany and Kurt don't remember either of them.

Fifteen.

The Fix

Kurt didn't tell anyone this, but he was scared to fall asleep. Luckily, the heavy cast made getting comfortable difficult so it was easier to stay awake at night. He was discharged from the hospital two days ago, much to Brittany's dismay: "I'm going to miss having you as a neighbor, Kurt!"

He was going back to school tomorrow, cast and all, so he was begging for a long, dreamless night. Nonetheless, he feared that when he'd wake up, he'd lose more memories.

The doctors told Kurt that he was literally moments away from dying – like an extra mile stretch on the interstate or a few more cars in traffic would have been the difference between living and dying. But Kurt had had a dream – and he spent long, sleepless nights convincing himself it was a dream – while he was dying, and it was the reason he didn't want to dream again. It was too vivid.

Before Kurt fell asleep, his mind was back in his car, the night of his accident. He had been upset, but Kurt couldn't figure out why. And there had been an argument? And he was calling to someone? But he'd gone to visit Brittany by himself. He could remember the drive – vaguely – and then the accident, and then his odd dreams that followed. His memories were scattered and he couldn't understand why.

"You haven't been forgetting things, have you?" Kurt asked Brittany a night ago, when Brittany sneaked over to his room after visiting hours.

"Yeah, actually!" Brittany said, sounding far too delighted by this news. "It's like there are holes in my head."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, when I'm thinking of a memory, it's only giving me bits and pieces. A lot of my memories don't make sense."

"Like they're missing something," Kurt concluded. Brittany nodded.

And since that conversation, Kurt's been going back to certain memories, trying to fill in the holes, as Brittany said.

Tonight when he started to dream, all he saw was white – and nothing else.

_No_, Kurt thought. _This was the same dream he had after the car accident._

Kurt started to walk into the light, slowly, cautiously. This version wasn't as vivid and real. Maybe it's a memory? Kurt waited for the holes that he figured would ultimately appear.

The closer he got to the light, the dimmer it got and the clearer the scene he was walking into became, until the light only surrounded him like a mist. In front of him, as real as it had been the first time, was the Eiffel Tower.

"Look around," Kurt heard a woman's voice say. "Kurt and Brittany aren't _here_."

Kurt's ears perked up, and he followed the voice to a girl and a boy leaning against a short, metal fence, turned away from the Tower.

"We're free," she claimed, although she sounded horribly sad.

Kurt didn't understand their conversation, especially because he was only getting a small fraction of it.

He started to draw nearer, like he was supposed to. He already knew what was coming because it already happened.

What should have happened was that he'd start towards the pair, and then feel a hand tug at his own. When he'd turn, he'd see his mother – older, but still recognizable – and she would beckon for him to follow her: "Not just yet, Kurt," his mother would say. Then he'd wake up.

But now, Kurt was standing a foot away from the two talking and no one was coming.

"Come on, Blaine. I have a lot to tell you," she said, already walking away.

Was this the Blaine who Brittany had mentioned?

"Blaine!" Kurt called out. But the figures continued to walk away. "Blaine! Blaine!"

"Shhh," a voice hushed.

Suddenly, Kurt jerked awake, gasping for breath. Darkness crashed all around him, but his eyes gradually adjusted.

"I'm right here," the same voice whispered.

Jumping against the springs in his bed, making his sprained wrist throb, Kurt looked to his left to see a person standing at his bed side. He reached, automatically to his right, grabbing his alarm clock, tugging the cord from out of the wall, and then threw it at the person.

"Hey!" the stranger yelped, catching the clock; his voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"Who are you?" Kurt breathed, his voice quivering.

The guy stepped into the moonlight, and Kurt jolted in surprise..

"I'm still dreaming," Kurt muttered, falling back into his pillows. "You're Blaine – from my dream."

"From your dream?" he asked. His face was crumpled up, confused.

"Yes, you were in the dream-" Kurt cut off. He looked away blankly and then continued, "I'm talking to a figment of my imagination."

"Kurt," Blaine said, sitting on Kurt's bed. The mattress dipped under his weight. Gaping, Kurt drew his eyes up to meet Blaine's. "You aren't dreaming. This isn't your imagination."

"I don't know you!" Kurt insisted. Blaine pursed his lips.

"Just tell me about the dream," Blaine urged. "Just tell me what you saw. I was there?"

Kurt stared at him; Blaine just raised his eyebrows in response. Kurt decided to play along and tell Blaine the dream.

"It was white," Kurt started, "and there was this light, so as I started walking, it faded, and then I was looking up at the Eiffel Tower." Blaine's jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything. "I mean, obviously it was a dream. One minute I'm inside my wrecked car and the next I'm in France?"

"Did you have this dream the night you were in the accident?" Blaine asked.

"Yes," Kurt said cautiously.

"Okay, go on," Blaine urged.

"Well, I heard my name. Some girl said it. She said something like, 'Kurt and Brittany aren't here.' Then I came closer and saw you."

"That was Santana," Blaine said simply.

Kurt's stomach twisted as his heart skipped a beat. Santana? The other person Brittany was talking about?

"How do you know her?" Kurt asked.

"She's my friend."

"And how does she know Brittany?"

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "They're friends too, only Brittany doesn't remember." Kurt stared at him sceptically. "I know. It sounds insane. But ever since both of your accidents, you and Brittany have forgotten some very important things."

"How did you know?" Kurt asked, shocked and a little worried.

"Is there a lot?" Blaine questioned patiently.

"There's just a lot of holes," Kurt clarified, shutting his eyes.

"Like your memories aren't complete?" Blaine finished, scooting a inch or two closer.

"Yeah," he said.

"Like...the day of your mother's funeral. You were in the tree house...talking to yourself?" Blaine said, carefully choosing his words. Kurt searched his brain, trying to retrieve the memory, but then Blaine was talking again. "Or the time you went to the amusement park...by yourself. Or the night of the car crash-"

"Stop!" Kurt hadn't stopped thinking about the night of the accident.

"There's something missing in all of those stories, right?" Blaine asked softly.

Kurt nodded, his whole body feeling tired and distant, like he was just watching in on this all happening.

"You know us, Kurt. You just don't remember that you do. And I know that doesn't make sense, but you talked to Brittany about us days ago."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm what's missing from all those memories," Blaine said, his face open and gentle. It seemed impossible, but Blaine was sincere, and for some reason, Kurt wanted to believe him – maybe even did believe him. "The night of your accident, we fought. I thought leaving would make you safe, but it was the exact opposite."

"And that dream...?"

"It wasn't a dream. You were probably right about to die. How'd you get out?"

"My mom. She lead me away."

Blaine smiled, nodding. "It makes sense."

"But how did that accident just make me forget you?"

"It's a really long story," Blaine said.

Kurt may have felt afraid. He may have felt confused, but Blaine seemed to have all the answers he'd been asking. Blaine seemed to be the answer, so Kurt relaxed against the headboard and smiled. "I have time."

* * *

_Six Months Later._

"Blaine, are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?" Burt asked, handing Finn plates from the cabinet.

Blaine smiled. "No, I'm fine. Thank you for the offer though, Mr. Hummel."

"I have a feeling it's going to take years until I get you to call me Burt, huh?"

"Come on, Dad," Kurt moaned, tugging at Blaine's arm to get him out of the entrance of the dining room as Finn, Carole and Burt walked in, each carrying something. "He's not going to stay around for that long, if you carry on making him uneasy."

"Uneasy? At least I'm not one of those fathers that walks around the house carrying a shotgun. You're getting off easy, kid."

"Oh my God, I'm walking Blaine out," Kurt groaned, grabbing Blaine's hand.

Kurt eased the front door shut.

"I've always liked your family," Blaine laughed, leaning against the door.

"As opposed to your other boyfriend's family?" Kurt joked.

"Touché."

"So, where are you going?" Kurt asked, adjusting Blaine's collar nonchalantly.

"I think Santana wants to go to Spain."

Kurt sighed dramatically. "Take me with you!"

Blaine laughed. "One day. We'll travel on a plane, which is a horrible waste of time, but that's the only way you can travel. But we'll get there."

"You're infuriating. Get out of here!" Kurt said playfully, pushing Blaine away.

"I'll be back before eleven," Blaine said, grabbing at Kurt's hand.

"Make it ten. I'm kind of tired," Kurt said, reaching for the door.

"You just want me to limit my time in Spain!"

"Limit your time in Spain, extend your time with me," Kurt said, grinning. "Bye."

"Bye," Blaine said, disappearing.

Kurt didn't go in though. Even though Blaine was gone, Kurt could still feel him around, like the air was thick with him. He reached forward, his fingers brushing the place where Blaine's cheek would be. He looked forward, feeling like he was actually staring directly into Blaine's eyes.

Kurt felt him before he saw him.

There was a pressure on his lips. It made his body go limp. Something brushed the underside of his outstretched arm, and as Kurt's eyes fluttered shut, he wrapped his arm around something sturdy – Blaine's shoulders. Blaine's hands grasped at Kurt's waist, pulling him close.

Kurt smiled against Blaine's mouth, whispering, "Okay, go!" before gently pushing him down a step.

"Bye," Blaine said dreamily.

"I'll see you again."

Blaine smiled, like really smiled, before saying, "Is that a promise?"

Kurt grinned back, arching an eyebrow. He waved once, opened the door behind him, and then slipped inside.

* * *

******Teaser for Next Chapter:**

Epilogue. I'll give you a cookie if you can guess what it's about!

* * *

_Author's Note: _I will post the epilogue when I post the prologue to my new story. (It just has to be beta'ed!)


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue.**

1919

Blaine was restricted to bed rest. This was his second night in the hospital, and he was convinced it'd be his last night. Although news was scarce where he was, word of a deadly influenza reached the asylum. Blaine was the first patient to contract it.

"You're sure you didn't give it to me?" Blaine said in the darkness.

He wasn't worried about people hearing him talking to himself, not anymore. Imagining people was the reason he was in the asylum, and he didn't see himself getting out in the near future.

"Have you ever heard of a sick angel, Blaine?" came a voice, half-joking, half-sad.

Blaine scooted over in his bed, making room. Suddenly, Kurt was at his side, placing his hand on the dip between Blaine's hip and rib bones. He was in white, like always, but it was different from the white of the asylum. Kurt's white was pure, while this place's white was empty.

"What happens to you when I die, Kurt?" Blaine asked, thumbing Kurt's jaw.

"_If _you die, Blaine," Kurt stressed.

"I'm really sick."

Kurt sighed, nodding, tucking his head into Blaine's neck. "I don't know what happens."

"What if the other side is worse than this?"

Blaine felt Kurt shake his head. "There's nothing worse than this."

"I'm scared," he breathed.

Kurt hugged Blaine tighter. "So am I."

"Remember the day we met?" Blaine asked abruptly, rubbing Kurt's back.

"Yes. The cause of this whole mess," Kurt muttered.

"Hey," Blaine said, pulling away to look at Kurt. "Not tonight. Not when this might be it. No remorse."

"Of course I remember the day we met. You were thirteen, working at the factory, and the conveyor belt almost took your arm off. But I swooped **in** – for lack of a better word – and pushed you away-"

"-tearing up your wings," Blaine finished, fingering through Kurt's large, half-featherless, brown wings.

"The crazy things us angels do," Kurt said, tracing his fingers down Blaine's arm, making him shiver.

"The crazy things us crazy people do," Blaine said back, softly. "If I die-"

"You won't."

Blaine ignored him by repeating, "If I die, I don't want you to wait for me."

"Wait for you?"

"Like you said before, you think we must have known each other in another life. Don't wait around for me to find my next life because what if it's far in the future? Where asylums are condemned and life is better."

"So, what? You want me to just meet you on the street? Charm and sweep you off your feet?"

Blaine laughed. "You have to court me first, of course."

"Flowers, films _with sound_, rides in automobiles... the whole nine yards for you, Blaine."

"And I can hold your hand in public without spiteful eyes," Blaine whispered, his lips against Kurt's forehead.

"I look forward to the future, and I promise to find you when we're both there."

"Don't stop loving me," Blaine breathed, having a hard time keeping sadness out of his words.

"I'll love you for a million years."

In Kurt's arms, like so many other nights, Blaine fell asleep. The next day confirmed his beliefs: he wasn't getting any better, and he wouldn't see another night. Dizzy with sickness, Blaine lay in bed, coughing up blood and seeing stars with every blink.

"How much longer, Doctor?" It was his mother; although he hadn't seen her in years, he knew her voice.

"I don't think he's going to last the night," the doctor answered.

"I heard the Influenza was spreading, but I never thought it'd reach here of all places." His father. Blaine had every right to resent the man, but he didn't. Not anymore. He was just grateful his parents made the long trip to see him. He'd die with them there – with Kurt.

Kurt was at his side, grasping his hand, trying his hardest not to sob. Blaine didn't want to look at him because looking at Kurt would break his heart and he wanted to die with Kurt's smile in mind, not his tears.

A harsh pain twisted his stomach, and he coughed up red. When he tried to breath, he couldn't.

In his last moments of consciousness, before the stars took over his eyes, Blaine heard Kurt whisper, "I'll see you again."

Then Kurt faded as Blaine faded.

"Promise," Kurt breathed.

Then white.

It was different than Kurt, than the asylum.

It was a new start.

* * *

******Author's Note:**

First, thank you to Nixie (thestairwell), my beta! You've been superb!

Second, thank you all! My readers are lovely human beings.

Third, I'll publishing my newest story "Paper Birds" soon...a college AU. You should check it out!

* * *

Post-Epilogue-Epilogue

On S&C, _cloudysock _asked: "What would happen if Kurt died? Does he have to became an angel? He would probably forget his former life. Also Blaine would be really busy being an angel, right?"

My answer: That's kind of up to interpretation. Here's what I think's gonna happen: Blaine's going to age with Kurt, and when Kurt's mom can't be his angel anymore, Blaine will take back over, and they'll die together (which is sad but, whatever, it happens). I guess the same thing's going to happen with Blaine's wings, but he won't lose them because that'd be counterproductive to my story since Kurt would forget their entire lives together. TOO MUCH ANGST! Anyhow, they've been doing this dance for centuries now - being each other's angel - so, in their next lives together, I'd hope they'd both be human. Then in the life after that, they can both be angels, and have the dynamic of Blaine and Santana. Maybe they can break the bonds with their humans and run away together. OMG, I can't. Well, okay, yes. That's what happened in my head.


End file.
